He Returned to him in Battle
by Laureen Lycan
Summary: The dragon supposed the Hero was bored, coming back to face the Thunder Challenge so often after Demise's defeat. But whenever asked who he would like to face, it was always the same answer: "Ghirahim." Obsession, angst, adventure and yaoi. Note: This has been altered to comply with new FF regs. See A/N in Chapter 1 for details.
1. He Returns to him in Battle

_Author' Note: _

_This is the edited M version, with important (and juicy) pieces spliced out. The original and complete MA version may be found in separate chapters on my profile page at:_

_laureen-lycan . Deviant art dot com slash gallery_

_Takes place a few months after Link and Zelda's victory over Demise in Skyward Sword._

He returned to him in battle.

The first time the Skyloftian returned after the final victory, I threw my noble head back and chuckled, my dragonly laughter ringing throughout the gorge like so many rings of thunder.

"What now, hero?" my voice boomed heartily in a deep baritone, as I floated regally before the victorious teen. "You hunger once more for the bite of battle, now that you and the the Bane of Evil sealed the Demon King away? Or have you come once again to test my trials? While you long secured my Absurdly Sturdy Shield, I have other fabulous prizes in store." The dragon's eyes twinkled with the prospect of once again having a worthy contender to his challenges.

The young blonde, ever silent, nodded once and gave me a smile, his hand gripping his new and, though admirable, rather less holy blade at his side. I inspected the boy fondly, silently approving that the Absurdly Sturdy Shield I had guarded for so many centuries had gone to this young man.

As the rather chatty Eldin tells it, the boy and the Goddess's reincarnation had been hard at work building a new city down at the surface, preparing a community for the next generation of Skyloftians. After those months of battling numerous mortal foes, and facing daunting spiritual tasks, it didn't surprise me that the boy would grow bored of the politics and bureaucracy no doubt surrounding the plans for building Hyrule.

However, wily and mischievous as I am, it didn't escape my notice that something seemed different about the young adventurer. While his stance and posture were undoubtedly more relaxed and at ease than they had ever been during his destined quest, there was now a somberness to his expression, and above all else, I realized, a confusion rimming the blue eyes once filled with fierce determination and courageous moxie.

There was something else, too. A...nervousness...that puzzled me. Surely the victorious Hero of Destiny could not possibly harbor trepidation over the battles it was in my power to recreate for him! After all, the boy had long defeated these foes, what could he possibly be so hesitant about?

Perhaps I was just imagining things.

"Very well, hero!" my voice boomed, and the mirth re-entered my gaze as I sensed the eve of contest approaching. "Are you here to do battle or challenge yourself in one of the trials in the silent realm?"

"Battle," he selected.

I nodded once, floating a bit faster in my anticipation. "But of course, the victorious hero wishes to relive the glory days! All right then...which period of your journey would you like to face an enemy from?"

The boy let out a breath, and something about his response gave me the distinct impression he had decided on this question well in advance of his visit. "The beginning."

"From the beginning of your journey you say," my voice rumbled. I stroked my chin, recalling some of the more difficult of the boy's first foes.

"In that case, let's see..." The creatures entered my mind again, and I presented them as options to the blonde standing before me. "Here we go! These guys look pretty tough. Which one would you like to face?" While I asked this question, I continued examining the boy, his current state of being beginning to nag at the edges of concern. As he appeared to consider the question, my dragonly brow wrinkled, noting the queer expression clouding his features.

The boy exhaled, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. "Ghirahim." The name slipped out his lips slowly, as though unaccustomed to enunciating the noun.

Ghirahim. I remembered him from my first examination of the boy's previous experiences. The flamboyantly sadistic demon lord with a penchant for flowery dialog, and admittedly, quite a sense of style. I nodded, floating a bit higher as I gathered my magic for the task.

"The creepy guy you fought in the Skyview Temple. All right then, Ghirahim it is!

I raised my scaly arms in the air, and Link saw his vision go white as I once again created the fighting ground and his former enemy.

_Strange..._ I thought to myself as I watched the teen in battle. Usually, the hero made quick work of his earlier foes, often taking them down in a minute or less. But he seemed to be taking his time with Ghirahim. Well... I shrugged it off. Perhaps the boy was just a bit rusty.

Finally, I saw Link raise the image of the Master Sword and feint, finishing Ghirahim with a deft spin attack. I watched as the recreation of the demon lord grasped his injury and panted, glaring at Link, who returned his purple stare with a heavy sort of pensiveness I couldn't place.

The battle ended, and I quickly dispelled the scene, returning the boy to reality.

I paused in my usual spiel, considering the length of time it took the young hero to finish the demon - but I regained my mirth, and boomed, "Spectacular skills displayed once again! It took you 26 minutes to defeat Ghirahim. Your record is 53 seconds." I stopped here, deliberately cutting my spiel short, but the boy didn't appear to notice.

I offered him twenty rupees, fully expecting him to continue to at least achieve the fabulous prize of a small treasure, but the boy declined, much to my surprise. "But of course," I smiled kindly. "Your hero-ly duties continue, even after all the battles are finished and won, I'm sure! Farewell, young man...make sure you return to visit me to keep your skills sharp!"

That was three months after Demise had been sealed.

* * *

><p>Sleep eluded Link that night.<p>

The young blonde lay in his bed in Hyrule, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded underneath his head. He hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling of a bed again, having had little opportunity for a proper night's rest during the months he was on the Goddess's quest.

Exhaustion washed over him, and sharp images flashed across his consciousness, the blackness of the room in his visage occasionally cut by hallucinations of pale, silvery diamonds, and teasing, almost coquettish, demonic purple eyes.

His eyes slowly drifted shut, weighed down by sandbags of fatigue and the insomnia that had been plaguing him for the last few months.

It was there, in the space between consciousness and sleep, that the voice made itself heard again.

"_Sky child..."_ That familiar voice rang in his head with gleeful amusement, the flamboyant demon taunting him even in death.

His eyes fluttering, Link latched onto that voice he had once so avoided – and even dreaded - hearing, willing the voice's presence deeper, inviting whatever form of the demonic entity he could encounter into his space.

This was not the first of dreams that featured the ageless diamond-and-crimson-clad man. There were those _other_ dreams, those that had begun the very night after he met the demon lord in the Skyview Temple. Those awful, terrible dreams, so unpleasantly reminiscent of those he had awoken from during the transitional phase between childhood and manhood, ashamed and embarrassed in his sticky sheets.

He fell into a deeper sleep, and ghostly images of a pale face framed by silvery white hair gazed at him with slyly taunting eyes. He dreamed…

And suddenly, there he was in the Skyview Temple again, reliving his first meeting with the Demon Lord Ghirahim. A familiar aura, a presence without physical evidence felt within the chamber.

"_Sky child..." _he could hear the demon's voice whispering again, calling him. Link felt the gasp tear out of his chest, his heart pounding with something other than fear at the whispered words which had once grazed his sensitive ears so torturously.

Link turned again in the vivid dream, finally spotting the demon perched elegantly against a wall. Ghirahim licked his lips tauntingly, lifting a white gloved hand to snap his fingers.

Link didn't turn around, though his senses told him the demon was behind him.

"_Do you miss me, sky child...?"_ his pale companion implored with a smile in his voice, uttering these words with cocky, near narcissistic self-confidence. The diamond-clad figure circled him slowly, gracefully, close, but always dancing just out of the reach of Link's gloved hand.

His words wrenched Link's stomach, and the boy clenched his fists, unwilling to admit to anyone, even himself, the truth of his words.

Link watched him, then turned after the pale figure in the crimson cloak once again disappeared. Blue eyes darting around the chamber, Link searched for him…

Searching. Ever searching. Just as Link had been had since the black blade seemingly evaporated from Demise's defeated hand in that last battle, sneaking moments, precious moments away from Zelda, Groose, from his kingdom, to search for any sort of hint that the sword still lived...

Still in his dream, Link turned to stare behind him, finding nothing. Then...

The demon's sudden grip on his shoulders, those pale, well-formed fingers digging into his tense muscles, his perfectly formed body framing the Skyloftian's.

So realistic was the feeling of the creature's breath on Link's neck, the not-quite-warm firmness of his body against his, seducing him, leaving him paralyzed against the graceful white figure even as every survival instinct in his system screamed at him to leap away, up and out of this dangerous sadist's clutches. But still, he did not move.

The Demon Lord removed a hand from Link's shoulder to grip the boy's hip possessively, drawing him ever nearer, closing the space between them. His voice continued, the feel of demon's lips on his ear making him shiver._"Sky child..." _he teased, and his hand, gripped on the boy's hip, began trailing dangerously lower. _"Does the absence of my exquisite physique and charming articulations leave you...breathless?"_

Link awoke with a cry, sweating and to his horror, _achin_g, his entire body aflame with desire and a deep, empty longing.

With trembling hands, the teen cupped his face, pushing the sweaty bangs out of his face. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned back into his pillow and stared at the ceiling, continued staring until Hylia's holy light of day pushed away the demonic darkness that composed Link's nights.

* * *

><p>I never quite understood the youth's motivation in coming back to face my Thunder Challenge time and time again after the Demon King's defeat. At first, I attributed his presence in my domain to boredom in the now peaceful world, a thirst to once again taste the air of battle – or thought perhaps it was part of a training regimen, an exercise to maintain the skills he had honed on his adventures should evil threaten the world of light again.<p>

But the young man only ever seemed interested in battling one foe. Oh, every now and then he would undergo the entire challenge, battling enemy after enemy until he sought his prize: A heart container, or a small fortune of rupees now and then. But whenever asked who he would like to face, it was always the same answer:

"Ghirahim."

I never let on to the quiet young man of my suspicions – and I certainly didn't breathe a word to that terrible gossip of a fire dragon.

It wasn't until many years later that I discovered how it was that the Chosen Hero disappeared that I fully understood the motive behind his visits.

The second time he came to challenge me was the day after her wedding announcement.


	2. Don't Tell Eldin

Chapter 2

Levias and the three dragons surrounded the floating table in the Thundercloud, each peering at the hand of cards Faron had dealt them.

During the time leading up to the hero's awakening, the four would regularly convene to discuss dragonly (and spiritly) matters involving the lands they each guarded: Enemies faced, the increased rates of monsters in their land, and of any rumors they had each heard of evil's wake.

The meetings had proved fruitful, allowing each of the guardians to implement much more efficacious defensive schemes than they would have on their own; and while matters after the defeat of Demise had gotten...considerably less urgent (indeed, rather dull these days...) their meetings had by that time become pleasant routine, and in any case, it was nice to be in the company of beings other than mogmas, robots and seahorses.

"Gin," the thunder dragon grinned, proudly tossing his hand down on the table.

"What?" The indignant cry came from Faron, who floated up quickly, observant keen eyes darting suspiciously between cards on the table, and Lanayru's expression, as if trying to detecting any hint of wrongdoing. "That's the third time," the female barked, her hand thrown on the table as violently as cards can be thrown by an angry water dragon.

She pointed a mighty claw in the yellow dragon-god's face, her robes billowing erratically behind her, a reflection of her agitated state. "You're a dirty cheat!" she accused, her antennae-like tendrils flailing wildly.

"Now, now..." the sky spirit interrupted in his calming voice, intervening before Lanayru could retort – a provocation which would ordinarily drive the female into making a quick snack out of a lesser being. "Why don't we play a different game," Levias suggested with some amount of diplomacy.

Eldin let out a controlled breath of fire, instantly incinerating the cards. He casually raised his claws, summoning a new deck, which he expertly shuffled and distributed in five-card hands.

The water dragon narrowed her eyes at the sheepish looking desert dragon, and crossed her arms, her antennae-like tendrils settling calmly. "Very well..." she stated regally, having settled into a state of (ever vigilant) calm. The thunder dragon shifted uncomfortably under her accusatory glare.

Eldin motioned Levias to take his turn, angling sideways toward the other two dragons to regale them in the latest gossip.

"Have you all heard?" the fire dragon began in his rich timbre.

The sky spirit rolled his eyes, having an idea of what was coming from the famed gossip... He swore, Eldin probably scooped those eye-imprinted stones most of the time.

"There is to be a wedding," Eldin began excitedly, eyes darting toward the other dragons conspiratorially. "To take place on the surface, in the land the humans have named Hyrule."

Levias put down two cards, taking the two Eldin distributed from the deck, and wincing; all that time alone in the clouds had left him without much of a poker face, it seemed.

"Is that so," Levias uttered politely – and rather flatly - indulging in more of the pumpkin soup recently brought for the occasion.

Faron, having no qualms about partaking in idle chatter, gave a rich laugh, the slightly pompous blue dragon elegantly twirling two of her own cards down on the table. "So the Goddess and her Chosen Hero are now fulfilling their destinies, are they?"

Eldin drew two cards for her, shooting her an almost sly look.

"Oh, no..." Eldin started in a slow hush, obviously enjoying the divulging of this juicy nugget of information. The majestic crimson dragon exchanged one of his own cards for one from the deck. "Curiously enough, it seems the Goddess's incarnation is marrying another..."

"What?" the interrupting cry came from Levias (who had evidently forgotten he was above such talk), and the spirit unwittingly showed his hand in his surprise. Lanayru took the opportunity to steal a glance at his cards, and Faron, watching the wily old dragon vigilantly, uttered a shriek, and promptly summoned a burst of water at the thunder god, soaking the cards in his grip.

Scowling, a dripping wet Lanayru tossed down his cards in defeat, and Eldin, obviously used to such antics, summoned yet another deck of cards without skipping a beat.

"It's true," Eldin nodded his mighty head for emphasis. "She's to be wed to the young man who apparently aided the Hero in sealing the Imprisoned. While she spurned his advances for years, it is believed his experiences in the Sealed Grounds rather changed the male enough for the girl to accept his hand in marriage."

Anyone who cared to look would have seen Levias shooting the red dragon an incredulous open-mouthed stare. How inHylia's realm did he know all this? Still, for all Eldin's gossip, he had never been mistaken yet. Must be a good networker...

Blinking, the sky spirit snapped out of it to press for more information.

"But...that's preposterous," Levias sputtered, looking to Faron as if for confirmation. "Everyone knows the Goddess's Incarnation and the Chosen Hero are destined to meet, fight back the forces of evil, and then together lead the kingdom to a prosperous age." He settled back in the air, pensively.

Lanayru, thinking back to the hero's somber countenance, and rather strange behavior during the last challenge, said nothing during all this.

The water dragon mused over the subject, speaking slowly. "I suppose it's possible for them to lead the kingdom without such a union..." She shrugged, folding her claws beneath her robes. She raised an eyebrow to her firey counterpart. "Though it did appear to me the boy was fairly enamored with the girl..." she trailed off before let out a derisive laugh, floating now so that she appeared to be leaning back.

"But who can account for the fickle hearts of mortals?" she drawled, also reaching for a cup of the delicious pumpkin soup. _Rather much like the fickle hearts of fire dragons, _she thought privately, glancing at the current crimson card dealer with a twinge of resentment.

Lanayru broke his silence, grinning happily at his compatriots. "So," he asked merrily, his claws on the table. "Are we to be invited to the celebration?"

* * *

><p>Link could almost hear the pale figure's words in his ear, and the young man felt a not unpleasant shiver run down his spine.<p>

_Come find me, Hero... _the demon's voice had tempted, yet again. _These rather drab depths of the shadow realm simply don't suit me at all, and I __**so**__ long to hear the sound of your screams... _The words had tightened his chest, and the the demon lord's threats reverberated in the depths of Link's mind, absorbing the hours of his days, chasing away hopes of sleep at night...

"Link..." A voice that seemed far away drifted faintly to Link.

"Link!" The frustrated voice of his childhood best friend jerked him suddenly from the memory of his latest dream.

"Wha...oh." Blinking, Link returned to the world of the present, realizing he had spaced out in the middle of saddling his loftwing in the forest. He turned from the red bird and set his fatigued blue eyes on his blonde friend, smiling apologetically. "What were you saying, Zels?"

She didn't return his smile. She surveyed the bags under his eyes, the lack of color in his formerly rosy cheeks. "You're still not sleeping," she stated simply. There was no question in her tone.

Link shrugged, turning his attention to tightening the straps on his bird.

"Are you going to tell me where you're going this time...or how long you'll be gone?" His shoulders stiffened at the unveiled resentment in her tone. He sighed.

The last few months had seen a rift grow between them... It was almost ironic, really. For months, he had suffered soul-shattering trials to ensure this girl's safety, battled unspeakable monsters to secure her return... and now that she was back, more and more he found he had nothing to say to her.

"I won't be gone long, this time." His voice was patient, refusing to acknowledge the anger and confusion that had been rising in the Goddess's Incarnation these last six months.

She looked down, her hands lightly clenched at her sides. Her tone was indistinguishable.

"Are you even going to congratulate me?"

At this, Link froze for a fraction of a second. He patted his bird, and turned to the girl, giving her a sad smile. That look of regret in her eyes – so strange in a girl who had just announced her engagement just the day before.

"Of course I am..." the teen leaned over, pulling his oldest friend, his childhood love in a close embrace.

Unseen by him, Zelda clenched her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. The two held each other for a few long moments, Link stroking the girl's back affectionately.

"I'm so happy for you and Groose," he said, and the sincerity in his voice just spurred more tears in the girl. He took a deep breath against her frame, squeezing her gently. He laughed softly, still holding her. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but I know Groose will take great care of you."

He drew away with a genuine smile...but the sight of her tears drove the laughter from his expression.

A small sea of hurt and confusion stared back at him from the pools in her eyes. There, right in the forest where he had completed her rescue, she finally voiced the question that had been haunting the both of them.

"Why isn't it you that I'm marrying?"

Link inhaled sharply, stepping back so that he was now holding her at arm's length. Several seconds passed. His hands on her shoulders, his fingers tightened against her skin gently, helplessly.

He had no answer. He just shook his head slowly.

She looked down and wiped away her tears. Taking small sniff, she straightened her posture and placed her hands on his wrists.

"Is it another girl?" Tentatively, she raised her eyes to his, as though drawing upon her holy strength to summon enough bravery to face his answer. "Some glamorous woman you met on your adventures? Is that why you're moping around, taking long trips away without a moment's notice?"

Link seemed genuinely surprised by her question. He blinked, and opened his mouth to answer –

Then it happened.

A flash of diamonds and purple eyes – sly, knowing eyes stared out at him from the otherwise gentle face of his best friend, the girl he once loved.

Link staggered backward with a sharp cry, his crimson loftwing cawing out in alarm, rapidly, instinctively turning its body so that his master fell back harmlessly against his soft feathers.

He hit the bird with a soft thud. "No..." Link whispered raggedly, gloved hands raised to his eyes, as though by screening them from the vision, the malicious entity could no longer detect him.

"Link?" his friend cried out in alarm, rushing forward to grip his arms. "Link, what's wrong?" The genuine concern in her voice betrayed her months of worrying over him, over the young man she still loved, the hero who now seemed a tormented shadow of the boy she had played and laughed with in the island above the clouds.

He shook his head, eyes still clenched, and Link gently pried her hands away. "I have to go," he murmured, and turned, preparing to mount his bird. Even after mounting, his hands continued rubbing his eyes, trying to cast out the stark image that seemed now burned into his sight.

She shook her head sadly. "When will you be back?"

"Soon." Link was already in the air, flying off to continue his search. She called after him, but his bird's wings, the fierce rush of the air, and the demons that haunted him drowned out the girl's voice.

* * *

><p>The boy was waiting for me in the gorge when I returned from my meeting in Thunderhead.<p>

As the blonde young hero approached me, I exhaled a massive puff of air upon studying the teen. He looked worse than I had ever seen him during his grueling adventure... He had lost some weight, it appeared. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his expression carried the look of a man haunted.

I thought back to what Eldin had said about the Goddess Incarnate's engagement, and I wondered how much of his present appearance stemmed from it...

_Or how much his name's absence on the wedding announcements stemmed from his current state. _

I pushed these thoughts out of my mind. "You wish to do battle again, hero?" I injected some cheer into my voice, watching his small figure in the glade surrounded by whirrping robots and blades of grass.

He nodded. "Very well," I responded, raising my thunderous arms to the sky to prepare my magic for the battleground to come...

...Link recognized his surroundings in the chamber of the Fire Sanctuary. He felt his sacred shield on his back, as well as the weight of the weapons he had carried at this point in his adventure.

Lanayru's battles never featured the demon's eloquent speeches before the battle. So Link drew his sword and stepped forward, prepared to put the hasty plan he had devised into action.

The pale image of the demon lord materialized...and Link's stomach wrenched in on itself in a way it never had during actual battle with the diamond-clad figure. The nervous hero tightened his grip on his blade, forcing himself to steady his breathing as he faced the most corporeal vision of the entity he had seen since the night terrors increased in intensity. Link studied his foe's trim figure, the way his clothing fit across muscle, and the demon lord's facial expression, searching for any clues, any traits he had not thought to take notice of during former battles.

Upon meeting his eyes, Link began doubting the possible success of his plan; rather than the confident taunting that always graced the diamond-clad Ghirahim in reality and his dreams, the orbs that stared back at Link were soulless, lifelessly dull. Programmed, a mere shell of the actual demon lord.

Regardless, Link had to finish this fight. The entity's arms were a heavy black this time, and Link recalled the strategy he had used during this battle to defeat the pale demon. Inhaling a breath, Link strode forward, resolving to continue in his plan despite his dubiety.

He approached the slim white figure, his sword drawn obviously in front of him. Predictably, the calculating entity raised his hand... Link took a swing.

His blade caught between the smiling demon's fingers with a clang, and two ruby daggers materialized, spinning threateningly in between the two men.

Link made no move to remove his sword, and concentrated desperately, mimicking the manner in which he would communicate with Fi.

_I know what you are, sword spirit. _

No reaction. Disappointment began its regretful journey over the boy's features.

Then he felt it. His instincts, his battle-forged senses picked up a new energy in the battleground - a third party force crackling through the aura that typically surrounded the Thunder Dragon's magical challenges.

The daggers stopped spinning, remaining frozen in midair.

The demon's eyes met his - and life sparked within them, an uncharacteristic seriousness filling them; Link heard the now familiar voice sounding once again in his mind.

_Such a clever little skychild. _The voice held the sound of the Ghirahim's smile, despite his serious expression.

The daggers immediately lurched forward, slashing Link's tunic, creating shallow wounds in his skin. He cried out in pain, and to Link's horror, he saw the spirit flick out his famously long tongue and graze pale lips at the bloodshed.

Ghirahim promptly wrenched the blade from Link's fingers, as though reminding Link who had control over their interactions.

The voice again, not spoken through the figure in front of him, but sounding within his own mind.

_But you won't succeed this way, I'm afraid..._

The seriousness left the eyes of his foe, as if no longer possessed by the actual inspiration of its fictional self. He raised Link's weapon, and the younger man threw himself sideways, only narrowly missing being run through by his own blade.

The invading energy left the battle arena, the aura of the Thunder Challenge returning to its usual state.

The pale, programmed entity spoke no more to him in that battle.

That night, direction would grace the tormented hero's dreams.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you for the reviews! I already have the idea for the next chapter, so I hope to get it out relatively soon. I'm also working on Sword Spirit's Sacrifice, and I tend to focus on chapters one at a time. _

_Shout outs: _

_Petite-neko: I know, but it's so much fun seeing Ghirahim torment him._

_Saya: Thank you! I was happy to get this out so soon._

_Roowbin and Pilpols: I'm definitely planning on it! _

_ButterflyBabyBlue: See above. :) Thank you for the fave!_

_Bunnylali: I know! The idea for this came when I went back to see Lanayru just to fight our fabulous Demon Lord again. _


	3. Waiting in the Depths

_A/N: This came a bit quicker than I thought. I kept rewriting the second part to this; I re-read it so many times, I'm not still sure if it captures what I wanted it to._

_ Your reviews keep bending me to the will of the plot bunnies! Both praise and constructive criticism are very very welcome._

Chapter 3

If the dragon-god had noticed anything strange about that battle with Ghirahim, he certainly didn't let on.

Though the episode with the demon lord had rattled the teen and supplied him a with a great deal more questions than answers, Link had continued with the Challenge, intent on completing the heart container he had been only one piece from achieving.

Rather than using the bird statue to use the quicker route home, Link called his Loftwing down to the gorge, preferring to ponder the recent battle while flying the long way through the surface skies.

As his bird flapped on, the teen grew lost in thought, and he failed to notice the threatening gray cloud-cover on his flight back to his small cottage in the new village. Unfortunately for the boy, it was rather a long flight back, and it was a very cold and drenched Link that dragged himself off his Loftwing toward the warmth of his home.

Link sneezed as he crossed the threshold, and upon closing his door, realized he felt even worse than usual. His head was pounding, and a fatigue disproportionate to the energy he had spent in battle overtook his body.

Feverishly, he dragged himself to a cabinet, only to realize he had forgotten to restock on red potions. Glancing outside, he saw the unforgiving rain continuing to pound down into the earth, and Link dragged himself into bed, resolving to borrow a potion in the morning.

Exhausted with fever and the day's challenges, the Hero slept deeply for the first time in months. He dreamed...

* * *

><p>The demon's voice sounded far away this time, further away than Link had ever heard it.<p>

_Come find me, Hero, _his voice breathed again.

Link's breath quickened, feeling the sensation of two hands slowly, sensually grazing up his legs. They began at the inside of his knees, fingertips making delicious circular strokes on his sensitive skin. They lingered briefly, and the young man gasped in his sleep, feeling the sharp, somewhat painful sensation of fingernails dragging slowly, agonizingly upwards.

They stopped at his inner thighs, and the nails relaxed, a once again gentle touch beginning to knead the firm muscle of his inner thighs.

_Our thread of fate still binds us..._

"Mmph..." Link's breathing became ragged, and he struggled in deep sleep, writhing underneath the talented fingers massaging his stiff muscles.

Link shuddered in his sleep, his pulse quickening as the firm hands rubbed ever higher, in broad, delicious strokes. As they continued their ministrations, the young man began trembling, feeling the familiar ache of desire begin throbbing between his legs...

A shrill, unearthly shriek shattered the dream. The high-pitched wail tore at Link's eardrums, a cursed sound that seemed capable of paralyzing a fully grown man...

Link's eyes flew open, quickly darting around his room – only to realize he was not in his room. Nor, something told him, anyplace on the surface.

He stood astonished by his unfamiliar surroundings. He was standing in a dark cavern, the source of dim light indeterminable, as the ceiling reached higher than his eyes could see. He was wearing his tunic, he realized, and with some surprise, he noticed his latest sword in his grip: The blade of a Skyloft Knight, strengthened with one of the Goddess feathers he had found, and sharpened by Gondo with other materials he had found on the surface.

Turning around, Link's keen ears noticed the ground crunching strangely underneath his boots. Curiously, he cast his blue gaze downward to study the foundation.

A wave of sick gripped his stomach. Clapping a hand to his mouth in nausea, he realized he was standing on bones – layers and layers of decomposing bones, and the horrifying remains of long-rotted flesh.

Gasping, the blonde stumbled backwards, and the overwhelmed hero nearly let out a scream as a firm body interrupted his fall, two lean arms wrapping around his chest.

"Come now," the voice purred. "Surely the Chosen Knight of the Goddess can tolerate a little macabre scenery..."

No longer far away, the voice was coming from the surrounding figure. Uttering a small cry, Link threw Ghirahim's arms off him, and spun around with his blade drawn, intending to put a few feet's distance between the two.

But the pale demon lord was nowhere to be found. Link could hear his own harsh breathing echo in the silent cavern, and he whirled around in a panic, wondering if the spirit was perhaps lurking in the darker parts of the cavern to which his eyes could not adjust.

The spirit's voice rang through the stalactites, mocking him. "Oh, don't tell me you've lost some of that irritatingly persistent courage..." Link could practically hear the raised eyebrow, the teasing smirk. "That...frustrating, yet endearing character trait of yours that _so _plagued me during our all-too-brief time together."

Link swallowed, his breath appearing to wrench in and out of his lungs. "No..." the boy shook his head, his blonde locks seeming to catch the unholy light in the cavern.

"This..." he continued looking around, thinking he could see bat-like creatures in dark corners, sense the aura of evil further within the cavernous depths. "This isn't real..." Link closed his eyes, willing himself to awaken. "You were destroyed. Trapped within the Master Sword-"

A loud, offended hiss interrupted him, and Link felt two hands shove him roughly from behind. Link fell forward, managing to catch himself on one knee before falling into the horrific sediment. He turned around, eyes darting around the cavern, still seeing nothing.

"No," the demon corrected him, sounding from a dark corner Link couldn't quite distinguish. "I abandoned Demise after his loss became apparent, searching through the weaknesses in his magic to find escape."

"But..." Link stood up, backing up towards the nearest wall, his sword hanging uselessly by his side. Uncertainty filled his still-innocent blue eyes. "Fi..." he blinked rapidly, struggling to remember what the blue sprite had said. "She said you couldn't leave until-"

Another hiss emanated throughout the cavern, and Link got the impression he had inadvertently insulted the arrogant spirit. His back hit solid rock, and for a wild moment, he thought he could feel a presence in front of him, the spirit's breath washing over his neck, two invisible hands running a slow path up his sides...

Link froze, briefly paralyzed under the seductive touch of the unseen entity, which made him recall those wonderful, torturous dreams... Then a sharp pain – he uttered a small cry as what felt like sharp nails dug into his skin.

Link threw his body to the side, away from the entity's sharp grip. Chills ran through the young man, and he felt blood oozing from the scratches the demon had left.

"Wrong again, you ignorant boy." Condescension filled the voice that now seemed to be behind the young hero. "The annoying blue sprite was characteristically correct in her analysis; but I'm afraid it was _you,_ who know nothing of the complex thread that is magic, who couldn't leave the battleground until the Demon King's defeat."

The drip of water filled the temporary silence. Recalling the appearance of the sword spirit, Link suddenly had the irrational thought that the elegant figure would seem wildly out of place in the morbid surroundings.

As if to confirm his musings, Link felt a presence behind him. The young man turned, finally seeing a somewhat translucent image of the demon lord. He was sitting on an outcropping of rock, perched comfortably with his chin in his hand and a foot resting against the lower part of the boulder.

Ghirahim raked Link with his eyes, as though scrutinizing the boy for any changes that had taken place since their last meeting. He was without his crimson cape, though he still wore the diamond-crested white suit from their first two battles.

Finished with his examination, the demon lord gave a dramatic sigh, continuing in an annoyed drawl. "I, of course, succeeded in my escape...but unfortunately, your sword's rapid engulfment of every shred of dark energy left me little time to choose an ideal route."

He turned away from the boy, and cast a rather haughty look of disgust around the cavern. " As you can see, the environment doesn't quite live up to my discriminating taste in living spaces."

Link, having long sheathed his sword, rubbed his face in his hands, overwhelmed as took in the information. "I don't understand..." the boy bit his lip, willing to entertain acceptance of the spirit's words. "Why don't you just teleport out?"

Raising his eyes to meet Ghirahim's, Link blinked in shock. The figure, who had appeared nearly solid before, now seemed to be fading.

When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "My magic was drained after I forced my way out of the battleground. This Realm is cursed, lifeless," he explained. "There is nothing here that can replenish my energy enough to allow for escape from its rather dreary, but strong boundaries."

The demon paused here. He met Link's eyes, an edge of seriousness to his gaze. The pale figure spoke slowly, significantly. "Truth be told, hero, I'm not certain how much longer my spirit can sustain itself in Shadow..." His voice trailed off.

His image seemed to be fading before his very eyes – Link realized this with a panic, and courage spurred him forward. He took rushed steps toward the figure, who only seemed to be fading faster as Link approached.

"Wait – but...you've been haunting me," he accused. The blonde's voice betrayed him, nearly hoarse as it carried the torments of the last few months. "You're in my dreams at night, I can see..." he swallowed, "I can see flashes of you during the day." The words left his throat as if in confession.

In the last few seconds he was visible, Link detected a slow, sly smile creeping over the pale demon's features.

"Tell me, skychild..." his silken voice purred, sending a jolt of...something...through Link's body.

He tossed his fading silvery bangs to the side. "These dreams you've been having..." he raised a see-through hand to his lips, licking the tip of a finger with slow exaggeration. "Have you been enjoying them...?"

Those purple eyes flashed; that taunting smile was the last thing Link saw as he stood, breathless, in the shadowy realm.

_Come rescue me, Hero_, Ghirahim's sardonic voice echoed in Link's mind, somehow managing to mock the young man in his request.

_I'll be waiting in the depths of the Shadow Realm._

* * *

><p>The steady metallic din of Gondo's hammer sounded throughout the Bazaar, punctuating the unnatural quiet of the tented area.<p>

I polished my crystal ball in silence, my beautifully large, otherworldly eyes still drained from the dark visions that had danced across them a few days past.

The other vendors were unusually quiet. None of us had seen much of the hero since Zelda's return, but the last couple of days had shown a sudden spike in business as Link arrived from the surface, stopping by several market areas.

He did not visit me that first day; others may scoff, but I will tell you, listeners, that I foresaw this. I will also tell you that I knew the nature of his imminent stop at my booth, and that for the first time in a long while...I feared for the young man.

I would be lying if I told you my piercing, all-seeing eyes did not linger on the Hero's business transactions that first day: A quiver upgrade at the Gear Shop...a colorful assortment of Stamina, Replenishing, and Heart++ potions from Luv and Bertie.

He even stopped at Item Storage, currently manned by the now-human Batreaux. (Peatrice had disappeared, eloping to the Surface with Fledge; dear listeners, even I, Skyloft's most celebrated Fortune Teller, did not see _that_ one coming.)

He retrieved his heart medallion, I noticed – but it was when I saw the Hero exchange his Hylian Shield for the Goddess's that my divinative eyes began tingling.

Where was the hero going, I wondered, that he would exchange the Hylian for a shield less absurdly sturdy, yet blessed with the power to repel evil?

At that musing, my crystal ball had begun to shimmer, and in time, my glistening eyes saw All.

Link came the next day. He approached my booth, a look of set determination gracing his features. I smiled at the boy, still grateful to him for finding my crystal ball replacement.

"You came as I knew you would, dear boy." He gave me a small smile, and placed five rupees on my counter. I dropped my voice, as my lovely, observing round eyes noted the nosy vendors attempting to eavesdrop in on the fortune.

The crystal began shimmering, and I began: "Young man, my eyes foresee a hazardous, thorny road ahead of you... But this time, you tread in shadow, in a realm hidden from Hylia's holy light."

The boy's eyebrows rose slightly, and I saw eager anticipation enliven them.

"You already know the entrance to the realm you seek." Confusion rimmed his eyes now, bordering the courage that flared in them. I stared into my crystal ball, describing the visions it foretold, feeling the beginning of strain on my shimmering orbs.

"A beautiful ancient cistern, laying quiet guard over an unspeakable underworld..." I heard his sharp intake of breath, and I continued, my vision pulling me deeper.

"It contains passage into a shadowy temple, one that is simultaneously your destiny, and not, to conquer... A dark place, which will gather a bloody history of greed and hatred... It is there that you must board a dark ship, floating on unholy waters... It will carry you to the entrance into the Realm you seek."

I paused, feeling unusually drained by All that I saw. The boy digested his fortune.

"But you are currently unprepared."

Surprised emanated from the boy, who was not only puzzling over my (unusually) cryptic message, but thinking over the last few days he had done nothing _but_ prepare himself.

A final image arose within my crystal ball, and I channeled the last of my concentration into bringing it into clearer focus.

"I see a weapon you must forge, a short blade, imbued with an evil energy... The one who calls you will guide you with it. But his energy is depleted...the blade will require a small mortal offering to summon his direction."

The crystal ball faded, and my glittering eyes drifted shut, exhausted from the dark visions.

"That's all I can see for the moment. My eyes...they grow weary. Come see me again if you should lose your way."

Link nodded, as though already considering the materials needed to forge the weapon. My heart went out to the courageous boy, whose fate even I could not read beyond the Shadow he so rapidly approached.

"Good luck, young man!"

* * *

><p><em>AN: A cookie to those who can identify the post-SS canon quote! Thank you so much for your reviews._

_Bunnylali: I know! I don't know why, but this Zelda kind of annoyed me at first. She grew on me, but I don't feel too bad tormenting her..m'wha._

_ButterflyBabyBlue: Long reviews are the *BEST*! I really appreciate the feedback. I'm really glad the dragons went over well! They each had such interesting personalities, I wanted to play with them for a bit._

_Vembra Isles: Aww..*blush* Thank you._

_MrMyshka: Really? *excitement* I'm glad I can_ _pull someone's heartstrings! It's hard to tell how effective emotions are in text..._

_Roowbin: Ha, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with those two yet. Time will tell!_

_DDDDDDD: :D Thank you!_

_BanishedOne: I really appreciate the time you took to write that review! I wasn't sure how the different POVs would work out; I want you to know I took some encouragement from your review, and decided to go ahead and play around with the switches a bit more. Plus, it's so damn fun writing peripheral characters. :) Thank you for the comments on my Ghirahim. In SS, he has very flowery, eloquent dialog, but it's sometimes hard getting the flow just right. Also, having read your stories, *immensely flattered* by your thumbs up. *dances off*_


	4. Embracing my Demons

_A/N: Last peripheral character POV. It came out a bit silly for the story's tone, and I seriously thought about changing it; but since the next chapters are going to be pretty dark, I decide to leave it. _

_I won't be updating **as** frequently. I wrote 90% of this story in a mad 6 hour rush of insomnia and Muse albums this weekend. But the rest of it really needs revision and editing, and it's going to take some time. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 4

Well, let me tell ya, I was pretty darned surprised to see Link comin' back so often to the Bazaar, now that little Zelda was back and all.

He spent about a couple of days goin' back and forth between all the shopowners. I was pretty stoked to see him; business had been pretty slow since the hero retired from fightin' evil, and my mum was startin' to get kinda naggy about finances.

I did a few upgrades for him...but then a couple days passed where none of us saw him at all. Come to think of it, he took off in a rush right after talkin' to that crazy fortune teller guy across from me. I just figured he was done upgradin' for now, or maybe busy gettin' some materials.

In any case, I wasn't none too shocked when he eventually turned up at my shop again.

I did my usual spiel, the whole, "What'll it be today?" expectin' him to ask me for another upgrade. After he got that Hylian shield, he didn't have use for much else. But then he up and outted with that strange request of his.

Kid was quiet for a second. "Actually...I need you to forge a small blade, Gondo. A kind of dagger, a long knife." Adjusting my goggles, I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck, thinkin' it over. My old gramps had taught me how to forge swords and all, but it was a heck of a lot of hassle.

"Okay, Link." Kid was a loyal customer, and all. "That might take a while, but it shouldn't be too bad. What kinda blade we talkin' about?"

He rummaged in that pouch of his, and I'm not proud to say I just near leaped outta my skin when I saw the pile of evil crystals he just dumped out on my counter.

Now, I'm not opposed to handlin' an evil crystal or two; sometimes ya just need 'em to get an upgrade right. But I don't mind tellin' ya, there was some seriously freaky mojo comin' outta that purple pile.

**"**I need you to forge the blade with these," he said slowly. I looked up at the kid, a weird feelin' in my gut. He just kept lookin' at me, and I heard a small clink on the table. I looked down, surprised at the objects he had placed on the wood. Three small, diamond-shaped pieces of silver, I realized, each about an inch long, half an inch wide.

**"**These need to be in the hilt." His voice was real quiet.

Now, I'm goin' to be honest, I didn't much care for the seriously creepy vibe the whole business was givin' me. My old gramps taught me pretty well about all sorts of weapons, sacred for sure, but also about those of darker persuasions, and I could recognize the makings of 'em for sure as that fortune teller was crazy as a loon.

If it had been anyone but him, I woulda told 'em to get out of my sight before I _gots_'em out, if ya know what I mean.

But it bein' Link and all, and that sad, determined look in his eyes... What can I say, I trusted the kid.

I didn't ask no questions.

**"**Alright, Link, I'll get on it first thing. This'll take me a while, though..." he nodded, in that understandin' way of his. "You jus' come back in three days, no questions asked." He gave me an appreciative smile. I didn't notice the twinkling bag of silver he left on my counter 'till after he walked out.

Well, the job was harder than my usual tinkering, but it all went pretty smooth. And I gotta say, after all was said and done, the kid paid well for the favor.

* * *

><p>I was never the introspective type. Not much of a big talker, either. Before the voice of destiny had called me, I was perfectly content to slide through Knight School, spending my days flying on my crimson loftwing, dodging Groose and his gang, and hanging out with my blonde best friend.<p>

Even when Zelda disappeared, I didn't really ask too many questions. I got some hasty explanations, and I armed myself as quickly as possible, fully prepared to take on whatever unknown dangers may have lain on the Surface to get her back. That was all that really filled my mind: Getting her back, and doing so as quickly as possible, no matter what.

It was sort of the same thing now.

It may seem odd that I set out the very morning after the fevered dream to start preparing. I had no proof that anything I had seen was real (there were some scratches, but that's hardly conclusive). And even after my visit to the fortune teller, there was still no reason for me to undertake what was sure to be such a treacherous quest.

What would people say, I only wondered for a second, if they heard Hylia's Chosen Knight had set out to recover the very sword spirit that had threatened the Goddess? The one who kidnapped her, who had staged an ancient ritual to bring back the Demon who had sworn to destroy her realm?

I pushed these questions out of my mind.

Again, I was never the introspective type. I didn't sit around philosophizing over why courage and determination led me to immediately begin my quest for the dark sword spirit.

Fi would probably have had several theories: Maybe it was the thread of fate he always spoke of. Maybe it was the confused discord of feelings he had always provoked in me. I was a child when we first met, scarcely capable of wielding the Master Sword. I had known nothing of real bloodshed, of the complex thread that was magic, or even of the incredible desires and sensations he would eventually stir in me. He seemed such an integral part of my life.

All that he was - his clever manipulations and plots, the sensual threats, the flamboyant elegance in which he moved, those eloquent words he spoke that would have better suited an intimate partner than a foe – how could I leave him to fade away?

I had no doubts about how foolish - even dangerous – my obsession with the Demon Lord was. But the idea of Ghirahim withering away in that horrible place... Well, as he would say, it was more than I could bear.

So it was that the next three weeks would reveal me preparing: Studying my maps, and gathering heart pieces, potions, and supplies to upgrade everything.

I even trained every other day in the dragon-god's Thunder Challenge, resharpening my skills to ensure I'd be ready for anything in the Shadow Realm. During these visits, I battled long, only stopping once I reached a heart piece, or a small fortune of rupees I would use to fund my preparations.

But as always, each time Lanayru asked me who I would like to fight, my answer was always the same.

The last preparational task was the most taxing, emotionally.

She met me in the Goddess's Temple, as I had asked her in the note I left her.

The look on her face startled me – it wasn't that of the Zelda I had known in Skyloft. It was that of the Goddess's Incarnation, entering the Temple knowing her hero was leaving, departing for a quest that, this time, she had not ordained.

She met me in the center of the stone room, walking up to me to place a gentle hand on my cheek. I covered her hand with mine and watched as she took her inventory, noting my new green tunic, the sacred shield on my back, and the sharpened knight's sword, strengthened with a feather of her previous form.

Then her eyes narrowed. I knew her eyes had laid upon the newly forged blade of evil resting in my boot. Even I could feel the twinges of darkness pulsing from the metal.

A question in her gaze. I nodded, knowing she would recognize the slight trepidation in my expression. "It's necessary," I said quietly.

She turned around, her white skirt swirling around her ankles as she surveyed the intricate carvings on the stone statue of her magnificent former form.

**"**So this is where you leave us..." I heard the twinge of sadness in her voice. I expected Zelda to ask when I'd be back; the incarnation of the Goddess did not.

I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around, her eyes meeting mine. There, behind the Goddess' stoic glance on her Chosen Hero, I thought I could see the young girl, the one so sad to see her best friend leave the land, leave her.

**"**Is there anything I can do for you, Link?" Her voice was steady, determined to aid me in whatever way she could, perhaps as thanks for the tumultuous ordeal she had put us through.

I unsheathed my sharpened knight's sword, holding it vertically by its blade so that the hilt was pointed skyward, the dull image of the Triforce on the blade directly between our gazes.

**"**Where I'm going..." The voice that left my throat was no longer that of the tormented young man I had been this last year. It was strong, confident, in full possession of the hero I was. I continued, and a line of worry creased her gaze. "It's a place filled with shadow, where not even the light of the Goddess penetrates."

She exhaled the breath she had been holding, as if resigned. She understood without knowing, without pressing for information on this private, personal quest.

**"**Kneel, Link."

I did as she asked. I felt a warm light engulf me as I raised the blade. I lowered my head in respect, but had I looked up, I would have seen Zelda close her eyes and raise her arms, summoning down the holy magic of the heavens.

**"**Brave Link, Chosen Knight of the Goddess..." I almost didn't recognize her voice, so pure, commanding and confident; a voice that surely came from a magnificent being far wiser and more formidable than any teenage girl. "I bless your holy blade. May it drive back the shadows of evil, even when naught but darkness surrounds you."

A faint light engulfed the sword, finding its catch on the Goddess feather that was embedded in its core. **  
><strong>The image of the Triforce on the blade, usually dull, glowed briefly before fading back into its original burned gold.

I opened my eyes. She nodded. I rose.

I put my hand to her cheek in goodbye, and saw the Goddess retreat once more, leaving the sad girl to shed a tear of concern for her best friend.

**"**Just come back to us," she whispered.

* * *

><p><em>(Author's Note: "Map of the Problematique" by Muse was blasting on repeat as I wrote this next part. I think it kind of follows the intro of the song. ...*cough*startplayingthesongnow*cough*)<em>

* * *

><p>The statue of the Ancient Cistern finished its ominous, humming descent.<p>

_A small mortal offering_, Sparrot's fortune echoed in my mind.

Maybe others would have been confused. Maybe others would have required more explanation. But I knew the Demon Lord Ghirahim, probably better than his former master.

I had battled him three times, an intimate clash of metal and energy, a mortal dance between talented, sadistic diamonds and the legacy of the triforce of courage.

I had fought recreations of him, studying his elegant precision and graceful movements.

And his ghost had haunted me: Fleeting visions of the sly demon that accosted me; teasing, taunting, tormenting me in vivid, sensuous dreams.

And it was now, that I prepared to drag him out of Shadow, that I understood and acquiesced with the demon's request.

The door opened in front of me, and the sound of stone scraping against stone was the last thing I heard before being assaulted by the underworld.

I withdrew my blessed sword and the Goddess Shield. I didn't waste time. Neither did they.

I launched myself from statue's doorway and immediately met the gruesome sounds of the cursed creatures rising from the depths, preparing their grisly assault in an eager movement to enact vengeance on the one who had previously defeated them.

I raised my sword to the sky. There was no Skyward Strike; admirable though it was, this was not the Master Sword. But I never doubted Zelda's blessing.

A faint white glow emanated from my sword, and even in the darkened underground, I could feel the holy power piercing through the darkness as I slashed at the cursed bokoblins.

The blade sliced easily through monsters' thin flesh and brittle bones, eliminating the first wave of the army of evil. I turned toward the single Stalfos that had risen.

I brandished my Goddess Shield, sensing the blessed metal warding away the weaker creatures of shadow, keeping them, wailing and gnashing, in their crypts below.

I bashed against the Stalfos' attack, sending him staggering backwards, and I leaped forward, slicing quickly at his head, feeling the steel run through his skeletal spine, severing the ghastly head from its body. I turned, his bones joining others that littered the polluted ground.

I proceeded quickly, exchanging my holy sword for the blade of darkness from my boot, moving fast before stronger creatures became aware of my presence.

The fortune teller's words reached me again in the stinking pits below the Cistern. **"**_A small mortal offering."_

The smiling white demon flashed through my consciousness.

I held the cursed blade up, planting my lips briefly on the cold metal. I hesitated only a second; I drew the knife to my mortal skin and slashed a shallow wound on my arm, the amount of crimson lifeforce drawn surely a quantity that would have made the demon lick his lips in bloodlust.

The blade glowed a dark purple. My blood stained the metal, and I felt the weapon torn from my grip with an all-too-familiar force, as though the demon himself had materialized to wrench it from my grasp.

The blade spun up into the air, twirling rapidly with an elegance befitting the spirit for whom it had been forged.

It stopped, frozen in midair, its point directing me toward an area below the Cistern I hadn't traversed.

The blade stopped glowing and I held out my hand, the hilt dropping into my palm. Still grasping the dark weapon, I looked into the direction it had pointed, and ran.

I ran, deeper into the darkness, embracing the demons that had haunted me for so long, in rescue of the one I prayed would save me.

* * *

><p><em>AN: ...Please review._

_Also, it was with guilt that I had Gondo forge the blade, since I've read a similar use of his character in In Hatred We Join Hands by BanishedOne (which you should all GO READ NOW (after reviewing!); but I needed a weapon for Ghirahim to direct Link with, Dowsing-Style, and using Gondo made the most sense._

_Shoutouts:_

_Bunnylali: ! Thank you so much. Your review spurred me into finishing editing this. I have the rest of this story written in out crudely, and editing __and polishing it is taking a lot of time. __The story -is- getting dark, quick. Please let me know what you thought of the last part of this chapter!_

_ButterflyBabyBlue: I'm glad you liked Sparrot! I had fun writing him. Gondo was a bit harder, and I wasn't quite as happy with him, but... hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Teapot-sama: Thank you for the favorite! And the compliment on Ghirahim._

_MrMyshka: Thank you! He wouldn't be Ghirahim if he wasn't sensual! -**adores the Fab Demon Lord**-_

_Pilpols: Thank you so much for your consistent reviews! They really do keep me going with this. This story is really difficult for me to write and polish up, for some reason, and reviews are really encouraging._

_Kaemiri: Thank you! I actually have all but the last chapter crudely sketched out, so please don't worry about me cutting it off short! The plot's all done, it's just a matter of putting in the energy to polish it up that's proving difficult._


	5. Creatures of Shadow

Chapter Five

The monsters I faced in search of the vessel were ghastly creatures, worse than anything I had seen in the Ancient Cistern: Undead humanoids, that appeared as decomposing corpses, sometimes mummified in bandages and gauze. The entities had the ability to paralyze with a glance and a shriek that seemed to pierce my very soul, freezing my muscles even as my fight-or-flight response pounded adrenaline through my system.

Those ungodly shrieks – the same shriek that had interrupted my feverish dream of Ghirahim, in what I didn't yet realize was a macabre precursor of the Shadow that was to come. Paralyzed, I could do nothing but watch in horror as the first corpse walked toward me, the synapses in my brain firing urgently, desperately, screaming at my muscles to _move. _Somehow, I managed to break free as the decomposing monster drew near – my sword arm, finally released from its invisible bonds, had flown toward the creature, assaulting it with an almost manic flurry of strikes.

I had scarcely felled the first when I heard that shriek again - felt my body freeze once more. Panic had flooded my system. _No! _I remember my mind screaming as I fought desperately, willing my limbs to regain movement. _It was too close... _

As the creature neared, it raised its mutilated face up at me, and a new wave of terror overtook me as I stared into those barren, soulless black orbs in that grim, dead countenance.

The gruesome creature leaped on my back, and I cried out, suddenly freed from my restraints as I felt its icy clutches draining me of my life energy.

It happened accidentally; I dropped the Goddess Shield in my struggle, and the metal fell, ricocheting off the ground, the glowing sacred emblem directed toward the creature on my back for a fraction of a second.

I heard a pained groan, and the stunned creature flew off my back from the force of my struggles, falling backwards. Battle-forged reflexes kicked in, and I pivoted off the ground, leaping up in its direction with the hilt of my sword high in grasp. Propelled by gravity, I thrust the blade down into its chest as I landed, feet splayed on either side of the loathsome monster. My sword caught it directly in the center, and I backflipped away, too much in shock as of yet to wipe the spray of its stinking juices off my face.

Shaken, I scanned the room to make sure it was clear, then allowed myself to stumble backwards into a corner. I caught my breath, courage suppressing a shudder at the memory of the shrieks that left my ears still ringing. I let my frame rest against the cold stone, and focused on steadying my breathing until I could take inventory of any injuries I had sustained.

A couple of minutes passed in this fashion until I had collected myself and steadied my nerves. I cleaned myself as best I could before retrieving the shield. I strapped it back onto my arm, and turned, making my way through the door that would open to the dock.

* * *

><p>The ladder up to the platform was high, but I ran up the wall and grabbed it, climbing up to the ledge and turning to face the dilapidated vessel.<p>

The ghostly ship sat in front of me, floating on unholy waters, just as the fortune teller had said.

I replaced the stopper on my first bottle of the Heart++ potion and swallowed the traces remaining in my mouth, feeling the soothing magic of the viscous liquid coursing through my system.

The entire place was a temple, I knew, one of its entrances hidden within passages of the underground crypts of the Ancient Cistern. As I stood on the dock, I knew the area must hold a number of winding tunnels and chambers, and I sensed the hostile energies of the creatures that lurked in the darkness.

But the voice of destiny whispered that these particular shadows were not mine to suppress; perhaps in a different era, a new hero, gifted with the legacy of the Triforce of Courage, would conquer them.

I turned my back on these challenges and focused on the vessel, on the personal quest I had undertaken. I looked at the area between land and ship, calculating the distance between them. I sheathed my blade, and I ran, my boots crunching through the dirt before I breached the gap.

My boots landed on the deck, and it seemed that the moment I made contact, the accursed vessel lurched forward, embarking on its journey upon the unholy waters.

That's when I saw it, a most unexpected mark on the cursed ship: The golden image of the Triforce, on the wood flooring of the deck. My mouth parted slightly, my eyes narrowed in confusion at the mark. But my attention could not linger – I heard the grim sound of a heavy chuckling, and I immediately unsheathed my sword at the presence of two monsters, two skeletal swordsmen approaching me, circling.

Then a damned voice, deep and rumbling, filled the air - the wild thought struck me that the voice surely belonged to the evil I sensed inhabiting this temple, a shadow entity that would attack another destined to bear the mark on my hand.

"_Hero from the Skies, you who brave the Realm of Shadows for the sword you seek... You are not the one destined to challenge this Temple. Return now, and leave the treacherous Sword Spirit to his fate."_

The voice filled me with dread, and I felt goosebumps erupt as his words echoed through the temple. But my eyes narrowed, and I leaped forward with my blade, as if challenging the very voice with the defiant action.

The red-eyed skeletal creature nearest me raised his sword, but I drove it back with a blow from my shield, stunning the beast. A quick vertical swipe, followed by a diagonal slash, and it was gone, bones falling into a sickly pile. Before the last bone had fallen, I was upon the second, meeting its slash with that curved green blade with my own. I threw his sword off, and drew my sword back to pierce his skeletal ribs with my blade. Its red eyes dimmed, bone and metal disintegrating, effectively ending the creature's activity.

The ship slowed, and I turned my gaze to the nearing platform, spotting a door at the end. I began making a move toward it, but I hesitated; something told me not to to stop, to keep on the watercraft's course. The ship rumbled again, and I nearly lost my balance, quickly righting myself. The ghostly vessel soared forward again, turning a corner, and I gasped – up ahead, further down tunnel we now sailed through, I could see the end of its watery course, a fall of water, the end of which I could not detect.

The ship continued on, in its deadly passage toward the fall. I sheathed my blade, and tightened my pouch as the plunge approached. I inhaled, courage steeling me. Then I ran. I ran toward the front of the ship, bracing myself as it began its fall.

I reached the edge and planted my boot in the wood, hurling myself off the cursed transport, propelling myself as far as I could from the shadowy vessel. I fell through darkness, and I could not see the bottom, the little light filling the Shadow Temple being swallowed by the black void...

I couldn't tell how long I fell. Minutes, hours. But I felt a horrible dark energy surrounding me, waves of Shadow pulsing at me, assaulting my body. I felt vertigo, and I could not sense the direction of body as I felt myself falling, passing through realms.

I continued this way for what felt like ages. Then, dim light beneath me: Unnatural, cursed light that summoned memories of the feverish dream. My hand reached into my pouch, and I pulled out my sailcloth, deploying it and feeling the cloth right the direction of my body. I floated down, my heart leaping as I recognized my surroundings as the location that had featured my encounter with my demonic ghost.

I looked around, noting endless Shadowed lands as far as my eyes could see. A high ceiling, the same as in my dream, letting in unnatural, cursed light. Occasional ceilings projected from stoney labyrinthine walls, stalactites hanging down, hiding creatures of shadow my battle-forged senses could detect.

Once again, I noticed the morbid sediment creating the floor beneath my boots. But this time, I paid it no heed. This time, purpose spurred my courage.

I unsheathed the darkened blade from my boot. Once again, I pressed my lips against the cold metal.

The demon's face flashed at me, smiling his approval as he burned across my retinas. This time, there was no hesitation; I repeated the ritual, cutting a second wound at an acute angle to the first.

His familiar energy took the weapon from my possession, spinning the blade with a flair that seemed so foreign in this shadowed land.

The dark blade directed me. Like a man possessed, I ran to follow.

I won't dwell on the creatures I fought; while numerous, they were mostly reminiscent of the creatures I had faced on the surface, each proving to have near the same weaknesses. Mercifully, I did not encounter the redead again.

Though there was no sun or any other indication to note the passage of time, it must have been days that I continued in this fashion, running, resting, battling enemies of shadow.

By the time I reached the dark lake, I was utterly exhausted, and I had no idea how long I had gone without sleep. I was running primarily off adrenaline, deciding to preserve the last the bottle of stamina potion I had in my inventory.

A glance at the toxic purple lake immediately told me what I needed to know: I must not touch the liquid. Its poisonous color emanated waves even more evil than its surroundings.

My breathing was ragged. Though I hadn't sustained any serious individual traumas during the skirmishes in the Shadow Realm, I had sustained a number of minor wounds from various creatures, and the lack of food and sufficient water had drained me of a significant amount of life force. As much as I hated using one of my three remaining servings of heart potion, I didn't want to risk any surprises in this condition.

I reached for a bottle of potion as I gazed across the lake, straining my eyes through the darkness to discern what lay at the other side. A pull at my chest; somehow, I knew his sword was somewhere at the other end.

I frowned, and bent down closer to examine the liquid; the water was not deep, perhaps just a foot in depth. I looked across the lake again, mentally going over my inventory of weapons in case one would be able to aid me –

An explosion rattled my senses. An eruption, an offensive spray of dirt and rotted flesh cascaded over my body. I whirled from the lake – and the sight before made the bottle of potion slip from my fingers in shock.

An ashen creature, nearly as tall as I, had launched itself out from the very ground. It hunched over with vicious claws, and thrust forward a leering, open mouth, stretched impossibly wide as if to swallow my very soul. As it drew closer, I felt my pupils dilate in horror, as I realized its gray skin was covered in splotches of crimson blood.

I brandished my shield, dismayed to find it had little effect on the creature. With no small amount of haste, I scrambled for the bottle of potion before the thing reached me–

I was too late; another noise, and I barely had time to register the long, red-clawed arms shooting up from the ground.

A ghastly hand had latched onto my head, forcing me in place, and I struggled against the tight grip. But the ashen creature was too close... I clawed fiercely at the hand, struggling to free myself from the monster's horrible grip, trying to fight down the panic overtaking my system. I clawed, and tore at the revolting fingers, but the creature was nearly upon me.

_This is it_, I thought. Ghirahim, Zelda – they would be abandoned. The sword spirit would be left to his fate, just as the cursed temple voice had said. I was going to die here, in the Shadowed Realm.

I had failed them.

The creature lowered its head, rearing for its fatal attack, and I sent a silent prayer to the Goddess, asking her to grant the next hero better skill, better fortune.

That's when I heard it.

Soft, but rapid pattering, against the gruesome layers of bone and dead flesh that littered the land. I sense the leering monster stop its deadly approach, and I heard a savage blow, a cry of pain. The hand released me as I still struggled, and I whirled from its grip toward the ashen horror, using the momentum to simultaneously draw and swing my sword. My steel blade slashed upward, decapitating the creature and sending its still-leering head spinning though the air like some hideous flying terror. The rooted arms withdrew, retreating at the death of the blood-stained monster.

Hands still trembling from adrenaline, I turned to look at my rescuer. And I gaped at my unlikely animalistic savior, who was now peering at me calmly, curiously, with an eerie, milky gaze.

I was staring at a large creature, just taller than I was, standing on four legs, swishing a thin tail. It was dark crimson, almost black in color, and its fur was matted, presumably from spending a lifetime in this realm.

It had broad, large neck, and a long face, its pale eyes turning to stare at me with an eerie expression that held no malice. Its skeleton showed through thin, but wiry muscles. This creature was undoubtedly of the Shadow realm, but something about it struck my soul, as if I was setting eyes on a being I should have recognized.

More noises. I turned, and to my horror, I saw two more of those leering creatures – even more jarring, I heard a rumble from the ground, and those shrieking, undead creatures rose from the unspeakable sediment.

A nudge on my shoulder. The four-legged beast was prodding its head at me, expectantly. The sudden memory of my Loftwing surfaced in my mind, and I realized with surprise what it wanted me to do.

The ashen monsters approached, and with a horrible chill, I watched the undead army of paralyzing corpses following close behind. I quickly stooped to recover my bottle of potion, and without further delay, I leaped onto the beast's back, turning only to draw my blade to slash at one of the long-stemmed hands that emerged in our vicinity.

The beast turned toward the water, and I fumbled only for a second, grasping onto what fur I could. It reared back, preparing itself, then began its charge through the pool, my shadow beast running unaffected through through the dark waters that surely would have poisoned me.

I held onto to my dark companion as we galloped through the toxic waters, and I gazed toward the dark end of the shallow lake, wondering what fate I approached with such rapid determination.

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><p><em>AN: Please review..._

_Seriously, those Redead gave me a freaking heart attack the first time they jumped on me in the crypt where you learn the Sun's Song. Not a lot of GhiraLink interaction here, but I hope the next few chapters will make up for it._

_ Oh my gosh, guys, your reviews just filled my heart with rainbows! I couldn't believe how many reviews I got!_

_Shout outs:_

_Sarah: Hope this was relatively soon!_

_Jamien Grey: Thanks, I hope you keep reading!_

_Sun-Flavour: Your review really made my day at work yesterday! I'm really glad you read the story despite the Angst category. I think it's more dark than angsty, particularly as the story develops, but I can't think of a better fitting genre. And thank you so much about the comment on the atmospheres; I never thought of describing it in that way, but I definitely tried to give a different flavor to each character, and each phase of the Link's development here. I'm also really glad you enjoyed the Zelda/Hylia dynamic._

_AerieTyger: :D thanks!_

_Pilpols: Ha, yes! Usually it's the other way 'round._

_Torakoh: Yes! I'm glad someone did. God, that was a crazy night. I won't be able to hear the song again without thinking about that piece._

_ButterflyBabyBlue: Ahh, thank you for the compliments on Gondo and Zelda/Hylia! I was always fascinated by that part in SS where her dad is all, "You turn into a different person when you worry about Link..." I'm really glad you gave good feedback on Link's emotions about Ghirahim. I wasn't sure I did it in the way I wanted; in a way, writing peripheral characters is almost easier, since we see so much of their personality. A thoughtful Link was hard, and I'm really glad it went over well!_

_Breaking-Benjamins-Rules: That is my favorite song by Muse, too! The lyrics are amazing. Also, I didn't look up the lyrics to Map of the Problematique until after I finished the chapter, and I was surprised by how much they applied to that part of the story._

_Tapix: Aw, thank you! And I agree, that fanfiction is incredible. It's one of my favorite GhiraLinks._

_MrMyshka: Thank you for the good review on Gondo! I sent you that response before another idea came. It'll probably be a bit longer than what I indicated. I really appreciate your comment on the characters' emotions! I tried a lot with the different POVs, and I'm glad it translated!_

_OMG: Ha, yes. That was me in high school._

_Bunnylali: I always enjoy reading your reviews! Well, I enjoy all of my reviews, but yours especially. I'm glad I can tug on heartstrings! I hope you enjoyed._


	6. Like a Man Possessed

_A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! I've never done fight scenes before, and I appreciated the comments on that. I'm also glad the shadow beast seemed to go over well. I did intend it to be a shadow version of Link's animal incarnations, e.g. Link's Loftwing, future Links' Epona. As Trolly's __Bara-chan so aptly put it, _someone_ needs to make sure the idiot doesn't die...__._

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><p>Chapter Six<p>

The rest of my journey through Shadow was composed of long, unmarked hours, a period of overlapping, incalculable days following a repetitive pattern. I would press forward, riding on the dutiful beast who had, for its own reasons, decided to accompany me on my quest through the Realm. When exhaustion rendered my muscles useless with tremors, I would take shelter in small outcroppings of rock. I would place my holy blade as a protective cross in front of me, my shield in the ground next to it. The strange beast never left my side.

The eerie animal never slept, either. It kept sentry over me as I rested, occasionally drifting off into slumber, and on two occasions, it roused me from my sleep when an enemy approached.

The Demon Lord visited me in these snatches of rest, though my dreams of him were no longer tortured. It was as if Ghirahim was aware I was steadily approaching, hunting for any traces of him as I suffered through Shadow in search of his blade.

_Sky child_... his voice reached me in dreams from the depths of his imprisonment. I would feel a firm touch on my hip, a pale hand cupping the back of my neck possessively. His lips against my ear whispered to me, sweet, captivating words I never could quite discern.

I couldn't see him anymore. But each time I woke from these dreams, I would feel suddenly, unpleasantly alone.

Another touch of cold steel against my mouth. Another shallow slash.

I turned to face the direction I needed to go. As I pulled down my sleeve, I happened to glance at my arm – I paused, startled, when I noticed the design.

There, carved in the flesh of my forearm, were the red, scarred lines of two diamonds, born in the blood I had sacrificed to secure the sword spirit's direction.

As I stared at the patterns, the idea occurred to me for the first time that I might be possessed by the demon. I knew nothing, really, of such supernatural activities, but it had to be possible; surely, that was the most reasonable explanation for my obsession, for the madness that was my current pursuit.

I shook myself from these hideous thoughts. It was a little late to dwell on the awful theory now, and in any case, as much as this troubled me to admit, I could not imagine any scenario where I learned of Ghirahim's predicament and _not_ have been overcome with the desire to act as I had.

So I continued, riding through the Realm on the shadow beast, who appeared inexhaustible in the strange duty it had decided to undertake.

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><p>A few hours' ride went by on that last day. Then my steed stopped. I dismounted, seeing a long stone tunnel, an unnatural construction that seemed intentionally designed. I looked up at the beast, meeting its milky eyes.<p>

It cocked its head toward me, and I reached out, patting it gently on (what I presumed to be) his nose. It retreated backwards a few steps, and gave me what seemed to be a look of significance. Somehow, I understood the Shadow animal was leaving me. While I felt strangely sad at this unexpected parting, my pulse quickened, latching onto this omen that perhaps my grueling journey was near it end.

I met the benign animal's eerie pale eyes, silently thanking the creature for all its assistance. It turned to trot away, and I turned to descend, alone, toward the tunnel.

I moved vigilantly, my faintly glowing blade drawn, fully expecting to be assaulted by some creature, but the tunnel seemed strangely devoid of any kind of activity. An unsettling feeling came over my stomach at the realization, and I could practically Fi's voice warning me to approach with caution; for what reason had even the pests of shadow for their absence?

I finally saw an opening ahead, and upon approaching, my hand immediately shot up to shield my eyes, now strained against the first actual light I'd seen since my descent into the cursed darkness.

I found myself in a round, circular chamber, reminiscent of those in my journey that would typically feature some divine monument, a sacred flame, perhaps, or a statue of Hylia; but I knew there would be no markers in this cursed place to glorify the greatness of the Goddess.

But there, a single ray of her light shone down from the ceiling-less heights, piercing my eyes with its brightness after being so long in this realm, stirring faintly glowing embers of hope in my chest.

When my eyes had adjusted, a wave of triumph energized me. The beam of light illuminated a sight so welcome, I nearly teared up in joy; there, embedded in the soft sediment of the wall, was Ghirahim's dark sword. It was about twenty-five feet from the ground, protruding at an angle rising towards the ceiling, as though the sword was yet held upright by the thin ray of light, yet to complete its fall into the center of Shadow.

My heart began pounding; it looked different, from what I could see of the blade. No longer curved, but straight, elegantly sleek, though still bearing a dark metallic color. Even the wings were different, a shining onyx-like metal, from what I could see, curved gracefully to point proudly at the blade. I remembered what Fi had said about the Demon King: "It is said in texts that he appears differently to each who gazes on him..."

I wondered now if my ghost's sword had some similarity. It was beautiful, certaintly more characteristic of the flamboyant demon lord than its previous aesthetic.

The wave of triumph settled as I approached the wall, and the fatigue returned as I studied its surface. The very thought of scaling the formation drained me.

I drew the last bottle of stamina potion I carried with me. The carbonated green liquid burned my parched throat, but sent volts of energy through my muscles. Reinvigorated, I ran toward the wall, kicking myself up its fragile surfaces and latching myself onto rock, onto bone, crawling up toward my demon, slipping only once in my ascent toward the protruding weapon.

I stretched my arm toward the blade... _He's so close, _I thought, my heart pounding. My hand grasped the sword's hilt, and it glowed a very faint purple, and it was surely only hallucinations of silver diamonds that sliced through the my vision of the darkness in the chamber.

I pulled, and the sword began sliding out of the sediment. With a strange wave of fatigue, I thought I felt the hilt warm slightly under my hand... _Just a little further, _I thought.

And then a mighty trembling filled the chamber.

I grasped desperately with my free hand onto any possible holds I could find, but each failed, the wall itself crumbling with the intensity of the tremor.

I fell from my hold, taking the sword down with me, gritting my teeth as my flesh grazed against sharp stone and bone jutting out from the wall.

I hit the revolting, accursed sediment, feeling the wind knocked out of me with a debilitating rush of pain. My lungs strained for air; somehow, my grip never loosened on Ghirahim's dark sword.

I heard it, then, while I was on the ground struggling to recapture my breath, a sound that filled me with a horror that had no explanation:

The sound of drums. _The drumming of the damned,_ I thought wildly, immediately chastising myself for allowing myself to think such a panicked thought. But the noise came ever closer.

The hilt of the sword glowed a fiercer purple; all at once, I gasped, feeling energy being drained from my body, being pulled toward and heating the metal I held in my hand.

I knew I was not hallucinating, this time:

He appeared from the dark blade, not flipping like Fi, but materializing, slightly translucent, standing quite poised in front and over my fallen form.

Still without his crimson cloak, his laughing eyes peered down at me from behind his silver bangs. He tilted his head at me, placing elegant fingers under his chin while he examined my increasingly fatigued form; his smile and raised eyebrows were somewhere between incredulity and amusement, as though still not quite believing such a figure would come to his aid.

I struggled to steady my breathing from the rotting dirt, watching as his form seemed to strengthen, becoming more lucid, corporeal.

For the first time in my half-interactions with the spirit since that last battle with the Demon King, I felt his energy in full, experiencing again the complete force of the conceited confidence he projected.

He looked so...alive. Incidentally, Ghirahim appeared unconcerned over the drumming, which was steadily increasing in volume and now raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

Another wave of fatigue hit me, eliciting a shudder. _How long had I been in Shadow...?_ I suddenly wondered. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten, the limited water I had found having drained before the strangely dutiful four-legged beast had brought me here.

The drumming grew ever louder, quaking the very ground we stood on, the sound gripping my chest with a destiny that was not mine to recognize.

The pale sword spirit knelt down by my side, luminous skin somehow untouched by the dirt and darkness. I felt self-conscious, suddenly, now fully cognizant of how filthy my skin and tunic were from the long trek through grime, darkness and evil.

I stared at him, his teasing, smirking features, the thread of fate between us never more apparent than now, in the chamber that surely held our mutual destruction.

I shuddered in my exhaustion, drawing on pure courage to reach feebly toward my sheathed sword. The Knight in me would at least attempt a last stand against this evil, this ever-approaching entity that beat on the drums of hell itself...

I was interrupted. He clasped a firm, but gentle grip around my wrist, and I froze as his other hand cupped my chin. When his face bent down to mine, his fingers seemed the only stable objects in the room, anchoring me to him in the quaking environment otherwise pummeled by the evil drum. His smooth lips drew close, grazing my temple, my ear, the area just beneath my jawline.

"Didn't I tell you, sky child?" His voice was silky, energized and clear, and I realized I was still being slowly depleted of my energy, his form seeming to get increasingly more animated as I grew weaker. He gently pulled my body toward him, so that I felt almost curled around his kneeling form.

"You and I..." his right hand traced low on my chest, drifting down toward my thigh.

"Bound by a thread of fate." He turned his pale face slightly, and shaking from the ground, I could feel his cheek against my own.

The drumming sounded so near, booming like it would take down the very walls of the stone room which were already crumbling around us.

His voice was soft, like satin as he spoke to me, a stark contrast to his harrowing words. "There is a very angry, very dark phantom beast waiting just outside, and I'm afraid the brute is threatening to bring down the walls of this chamber," he murmured, hand now tracing down my thigh.

He pulled away from me a few inches, examining the walls of the circular chamber now tearing apart in large cracks, the rumbling reverberating in my chest. An edge of musing gravity crept into his voice. "But I'm afraid you're not his to fight...not this incarnation of you, anyway."

His gaze turned down to mine again, ignoring the stones falling down into the chamber. His left hand lifted my chin, and the pale spirit bent his face down to mine once more.

My breath caught in my throat, feeling his breath wash over my mouth as our doom beat steadily nearer...

Then contact, the flirting touch of his tongue against my lower lip. He drew me closer, and I felt him smile against my mouth, grazing his lips gently across mine. My eyes fluttered closed, and I scarcely dared to breathe, drowning in the feeling of his lips against mine, thinking about how everything I had endured, every creature I had fought in the Shadow Realm, was worth it just to die with him in this moment.

"I'm very sorry about this, Link," he whispered.

His hand continued grazing down my leg. My eyes shot open, hearing him unsheathe the knife from my boot.

He finally got what he wanted.

I screamed when he thrust the cursed blade into my chest. I screamed, though his lips soon descended onto mine, capturing me, muffling my cries of agony with his sadistic kiss of death.

My blood surrounded the blade's dark edges, bathing it in my life force, and I sensed the Demon Lord fully replenished, returned to his former glory at the sacrifice of the Chosen Hero.

My vision fogged darkly, though courage grasped tightly onto consciousness. I felt a pressure underneath my body. I heard the snap of his fingers, and the evil noise of the drums faded away, leaving only his words, whispered not in my mind, but aloud as a cool rush of air swept over me...

"_Sky child... Your screams were just as beautiful as I imagined."_

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><p><em>AN: …_

…

...

_Thank you so much for your reviews! I wanted to hurry and post this up, so I won't respond to them right now, but I **promise **I will respond to everyone in the next chapter. _

_My finals period is rapidly approaching, so I finished writing the first draft of the rest of this story (rather frantically) this weekend. Again, just a matter of editing/revision, blah blah. Please read and review!_


	7. Undisclosed Desires

Chapter Seven

I was never a very introspective person. But when you make a career out of fighting evil, it's only a matter of time before enough brushes with death cause you to wonder what life might be like on the other side of its door.

I was fairly certain I wasn't dead.

But a heavy unconsciousness seemed to have smothered me, and my grasps on anything approaching awareness were fleeting; I was never quite sure whether I was dreaming or half-awake. I knew my body ached - not a dull throb like when you overexert a muscle, but a deep, exhausted ache, one that comes from a long period of insufficient rest and sustenance in high-stress situations.

There were moments where my coma-like state seemed to relax its grip; I thought I felt myself being propped up, swore I tasted cool water, and a liquid with a flavor reminiscent of heart and stamina potions. If I concentrate hard, I can even remember the feeling of a cool compress being pressed on my forehead, and of a soft touch, gently smoothing back my hair, and massaging the area around the wound in my chest for circulation.

I didn't dream of Ghirahim, during this time. My dreams were varied, however, and very, very vivid. Half the time, I relived flashes of my life in Skyloft, before any of this, destiny, fate, had interrupted my carefree days. I saw my early teenage years with Zelda, laying on the crisp green grass and feeling the warm sunshine playing over my skin.

I also had nightmares, mainly of memories from my quests. I recalled harrowing episodes of my adventures while on the Goddess's quest, but more often, of the horrible journey I had just taken through Shadow.

The worst were the nightmares of those shrieking, paralyzing corpses. That was the one time I thought I heard Ghirahim's voice during this period of slippery unconsciousness. I was reliving my first encounter with those monsters, vividly drowning in the terror I had realized when the creatures were moving harrowingly towards me, while I remained incapable of moving even a single muscle in self-defense. In the dream, I swore I heard the sound of a man screaming, from far away, even while I thrashed desperately against my subconscious monsters.

The terrible dream was suddenly dissolved when I felt my shoulders and arms pressed firmly down into a soft, almost luxurious surface. I stopped thrashing. The man stopped screaming.

I heard Ghirahim's voice then, tranquil, soothing, whispering words I couldn't quite discern.

But I recognized one word from his comforting ameliorations:

"Link." I heard him say my name. Not "Hero", not "Skychild" but Link.

A hand placed a cold dressing on my forehead, and I felt the strands of hair brushed from my face. My breathing alleviated, and I settled into a peaceful, untroubled sleep.

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><p>My eyes flickered open, feeling unconsciousness just at bay, threatening to swoop in once more with its black velvet curtain. im, grayish light crept through the arched Palladian windows in the quarters I was in. The first thing I noticed was that I was laying on a very soft bed, fitted with crimson and silvery sheets. I tried to sit up, but an immediate pain erupted in my chest, and I collapsed into the pillows. Breathing a little faster, I rose cautiously this time, finally letting my body ease backward against the pillows, in a sort of half-sitting position against the bedframe.<p>

My eyes warred against my endeavors to keep them open, and it was difficult to examine the room. In the grayish light, however, I was able to determine that I was laying in a four poster bed, in a room that was much more expansive and stylishly furnished than my dormitory in Skyloft. An elegant wardrobe rested open against the wall directly across my bed. Inside, I saw clothing resembling my tunic and chain mail (among other sets) and resting on the shelves were objects I determined to be the items I had carried.

I didn't see my sword. Or my bow and arrows. Or other weapons, for that matter. Before I could reflect on this, a wave of fatigue racked my body and my eyes sagged closed for a moment. Struggling to take in more of my surroundings, I willed them open once again. With a great deal of effort, I swiveled my head slightly to the right, but couldn't quite focus on the white figure that approached so fluidly toward my bedside, prowling so close to my shuddering body before I let unconsciousness reclaim me once more.

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><p>I couldn't tell how much time had passed. It could have been hours, but more likely it was a couple of days. But the next thing I was aware of was a firm hand lifting my neck, and I opened my eyes to see a glass of water being tipped into my mouth. Still somehow exhausted, I tilted my head back cooperatively, swallowing the cool liquid. Unconsciousness cursed silently, yanked away by my period of healing, remedial rest.<p>

I still felt slightly feverish. I was a little delirious, and I was overcome with the persistent sensation that I was without possession of recollections of something important, some crucial events that transpired during the end of my Shadowed journey.

My cognition struggled to recapture my last chapter in Shadow, but a dull fog hid the memories from my mind's eye. The hand guided my head back to the pillows, and I turned my head a miniscule amount, opening my eyes to focus on the slim pale figure reclining comfortably next to me on the bed, torso propped up on his elbow next to me, looking quite poised. "You..." my voice was quiet, slightly hoarse, and I licked my lips, expecting them to be chapped and dry, but noting with surprise that they appeared nourished. The white sword spirit only raised an entertained eyebrow in response.

That persistent sensation again, of some critical fact just outside my memory's grasp...

But I took inventory of my bodily condition, and I realized I felt pleasantly clean, and I noted that while my torso was bare but for the bandages, I was dressed in what appeared to be very comfortable silk nightpants. I didn't know how I got here, or what exactly happened to me in the Shadow Realm that I came to lay in such a critical state of health. My mind began wandering, and I wondered if perhaps I was just dreaming all this again, despite the all-too-lucid aches in my body.

I turned my attention back to my lounging pale companion. Ghirahim appeared to be taking an assessment of my physical condition, raking me with a studied glance that gave me the immediate impression he'd been monitoring my health for some time now.

I stared at him, quite openly, this corporeal personification of the entity that had haunted me for so long, this ghost I had (evidently successfully) dragged from Shadow only after enduring an abominable world of suffering, shrieks, and darkness. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, so many beautiful, torturous dreams and visions of him I remembered, the actuality of which I yearned to learn.

Appearing quite pleased with his examination, he turned his gaze back to mine.

I felt an incredible energy between us, a palpable weight of unspoken tensions, swirling in the abbreviated space that separated us.

I locked onto his brown eyes, and I inhaled, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the patient, anticipating hunger I saw in them.

He looked like a man who had long restrained himself, denying himself the pleasure of taking something he so longed to possess. I wondered how long I had been here with him, how long he had spent watching me slowly heal and recover in this bed.

A slow, possessive smile crept over the demon's aristocratic features as he swept an elegant hand toward me, allowing it to rest on my flat stomach, fingertips brushing gently against my abdominal muscles. I shivered, unsure of whether my trembling was a result of his actions or the intense expression on his face at his touch.

He spoke finally, his words heavy with something I couldn't identify. "I do hope we're feeling better..." he murmured. "It's obvious the Shadow Realm wasn't particularly charitable with you."

My eyes closed at his words, memories rushing through, too rapidly for me to focus on any of them. He had his hand on my chest, and I realized my breathing was still under the heavy weight of anticipation.

I locked eyes with the demon lord, and witnessed patience begin draining rapidly out of his brown irises. I felt a heavy significance hanging in the air between us, a electric energy, flickering in the abbreviated space between us.

Something flashed in his eyes.

He continued touch drew me out of these inquiries into my subconscious.

I realized I was waiting for something; waiting for him.

In the very next breath, the demon pressed the same hand to my shoulder, and he rolled above my body smoothly, straddling me with some amount of care, pinning my wrists against the bedframe with a firm, but gentle grip.

This has to be a dream... I thought, my blue eyes staring up to meet his, startled at the storm of competing tempers I detected in his gaze: Delight; hesitation; concern; and backdropping all of these, want. My throat went dry, and I tested his grip, but it remained fast.

I watched these tempers battle with one another in his gaze, and something, some defensive instinct flared up at me in warning, grasping at the edges of my memory, hunting for its basis. But everything was so confused, and the memories I did recall of my last week of full consciousness in Shadow were so horribly unpleasant; I pushed them out of mind, focusing instead on Ghirahim's purple gaze, noting the chocolate brown color of his irises that now seemed aflame.

I could feel him, the weight of his body, balanced so cautiously on top of mine; I realized with some surprise that he was exerting care so as to not put too much pressure on my damaged body.

My breath caught in my throat as his expression shifted, tempers warring with one another, and my pulse quickened as I finally saw lust triumph and overcome the demon's gaze, sifting forward to eclipse its affectional contenders.

_A/N: I had a pretty popular lemony scene here, but FF revamped it's policies, and I had to take it out for fear of having the whole story deleted. I'll figure out if I can post it onto another site, and once I do, I'll link it onto my profile. Contact me if you have questions or want more details of the plot points that occurred in this scene. (Yes, there were important plot points)_

_...LEMONY STUFF, followed by:_

A firm, pale arm draped itself over my body hugging me tightly, soothing words spoken into my ear.

"Link..." he whispered. "You are _mine_."

* * *

><p>AN: *coughs* Please read and review.

So... Link is not dead! Yay! I have a couple more chapters, hopefully I'll be able to edit them and get

them up. Sidenote, I was making salmon for dinner last week, and I tasted it and thought, "This needs

more lemon..." The voice of an evil muse in my head whispered, "Just like your GhiraLink Story." True

story.

Breaking-Benjamin-Rules: Your review made me smile. I hope Fang wasn't too alarmed.

ButteflyBabyBlue: I was sad about the shadow beast, too... I was pleasantly surprised he was so

popular. I'm glad I was able to incite some emotions!

sun-flavour: Okay, your review totally gave me an idea to expand a short scene in the next chapter. I

wrote it up furiously this morning. I'm excited. :D

Yeah, I wondered whether I should put the warning in... I think I'll go back and take it out, anyone

still reading by that part should know this is kind of dark. o.O Thank you so much about the comment

on the possession. I'm glad it stood out enough to strike people. Also, I thought it was interesting

you thought Link would be more wary. I tried to give the impression that he had a lot of built up,

Thank you for your reviews!

unfulfilled desire, and really did think death was imminent in the chamber, so it was kind of an, enjoy

last moment of life attitude; there'll be a time after finals when I go back over this, and maybe I'll add

some supporting paragraphs. Thank you so much for your thoughtful reviews! :)

Lilyrose225: YES! The quote was from Ocarina, in a description of the Shadow Temple from one of the

paintings. Thank you for the compliments.

Bunnylali: Definitely not over! I'm really glad you liked the reunion! ..Well, before Ghirahim got all

stabby. *cough* Oh, Ghirahim...why are you so delightfully cruel...

Torakoh: Thank you! I laughed at your "Thank Hylia" comment. Glad you also liked the reunion.

Teapot-Sama: Link's very much alive! I had *way* too much invested in him to kill him off during that

part...

Trolly's Bara-chan: See...he didn't die in Shadow after all. Dark Link should breathe a sigh of relief. :)

Vembra Isles: Okay, seriously, I am so touched that you took the time to read this in the early

morning! That fills my heart with happy, happy rainbows. It's a pleasure spending the time and

energy to do this when you know people seem to genuinely enjoy it. 3 3 3 Thank you for the

comments!

fairylover: Thank you for the comments on the shadow realm! I hope uh..you weren't too horrified at

the last chapter.

Grin Evilly: I'm glad you liked Bongo Bongo! That temple was seriously creepy.

Ghirahim: Hope this chap answers your question! :)

Tapix: :D

arrowriver and sarah: I hope you both enjoyed the last couple of chaps!

A/N: Plotpoints from explicit parts:

-Link still doesn't remember what happened in the chamber, being all disoriented.

-Full on slashy sex happens (after appropriately tantalizing build up, which required significant effort

from the author not to just plunge in).

- During some slightly S&My parts, Link has flashbacks of the chamber, realizing Ghirahim nearly

killed him.

-Link freaks out in the middle of all the slashy smex, eventually passing out.

-Ghirahim tells him in no uncertain way that Link belongs to him.

-Rihanna's background singers appear, singing "S&M" (not really).

-Gratuitous uses of "skychild" peppered in (really).

That about covers it.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Eight

The gray light that slid into the room hadn't seemed to vary, and I had no idea how long I'd slept. I rolled onto my back slowly, warily, half-expecting to feel the demon still laying next to me. But the bed was cold, the sheets empty of his unmistakable presence.

I felt a gaze on me, and my eyes were pulled toward its direction. There, draped quite elegantly on a chair next to my bedside, sat the white demon, clothed and looking just as composed as when I'd first seen him in the Skyview Temple.

His unflappable disposition only made me feel more exposed, recalling too clearly our carnal encounter. I subconsciously pulled the sheets over my body, my hand cloaked over my mouth as though unwilling to grant him expressional insight into how disconcerted the experience had left me.

Ghirahim was not smiling. For once, there was no taunt in his countenance. In fact, a contemplative concern seemed to taint his usual flamboyant presence.

The spirit studied my eyes, lingering on the pained expression in them, the suffering that stemmed not only from any physical toil, but from the psychology pain of his torments, before, during, and after my sojourn into Shadow.

Eclipsing all of this, the memories of our torridly intimate experience together lay thickly in the atmosphere of the room, disturbing me deeply in light of the bloody events in the chamber of the Shadow Realm.

His eyes briefly flickered from mine toward an area behind me. I turned to follow his regard, and saw a lavishly provisioned breakfast tray on the silver nightstand next to me, holding a steaming pot of some sweet-smelling liquid, a glass of water, and many assorted fruits and meats that were native to my home in the skies.

I took the glass of water immediately, not bothering to inspect it for any signs of poison – he'd had numerous occasions in which to terminate my life, and it wasn't quite the demon lord's style to end me in this manner.

"That hideous phantom beast was preparing to bring the chamber down upon us...I needed enough energy to teleport us out." I didn't look at him. He paused, continuing with an incomprehensible quiet tone. "It was the only way, boy."

There was no hint of apology now; though, I recalled the way he had materialized from his sword only after the metal had begun sapping me of energy, how his vitality had augmented as the blade continued consuming my life force.

My mind flickered back to his words right before that last, searing kiss in the chamber. "I'm very sorry about this, Link..."

I set the glass back down on the tray, remaining characteristically silent. Honestly, I had no idea what to do, or say. I began rising to pour myself a mug of the hot liquid, but I halted my movements and winced, an embarrassing pain in my lower regions stilling me, a sharp reminder of the unspoken tensions between us. I waited a second to gather myself.

When I returned my attention to the tray, he was there already, somehow having traversed across the room with a swift feline grace that was without sound.

His expression was intangible while he poured the liquid for me, and it was with a delicate motion that he handed me the mug. If I didn't know any better, I would say he hesitated a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Even so, it occurred to me that he was granting me a reasonable amount of personal space, given his usual disregard for the social convention.

Truthfully, I hadn't really considered how I was going to get the both of us out of the underworld. Really, I'd never had to plan my exits throughout the duration of the Goddess's quest. Inevitably, there would be some divine intervention, a portal that would return me to where I needed to go, or something along those lines.

His words made some sense. But I still remembered the dark pleasure in his eyes as he plunged the knife through me, and the wound was prevalent enough to serve as a painful, all-too-recent reminder of how harrowing the entire episode had been. I shuddered.

"Those horrible drums..." my voice whispered unconsciously, and I let my voice trail into silence, not really having intended on voicing my thoughts.

I heard an amused sound from the sword spirit. "Indeed," he mused. "Really, sending the stone walls down to smother us wasn't abominable enough; the brute had to assault us with that tonedeaf banging, as well."

Despite myself, I felt a small smile flicker across my features at his words. I settled against the bedframe, staring down into the mug of liquid in my hand. I was surprised when a plate of food suddenly appeared in my lap.

"You should eat something." His voice was soft, but firm. "You've had nothing but water and potions for weeks."

Ghirahim did not speak until the touch of glass left my lips. I shook myself from these memories, and finished my glass of water.

I sipped the pleasant-tasting liquid in silence, contemplating his words. At this, I raised my eyes up at him, my eyebrows furrowed in question.

He continued speaking with an even, explanatory tone. It was almost gentle, really.

"You've been resting in my guest chambers for the last three weeks," he stated. "Based on my evaluation of your condition, I estimate you'd been in Shadow for a period just short of that." I regarded him pensively, considering the time frame.

"We are currently in my wing of my former master's castle..." The spirit paused, then finished his sentence quickly, glancing at me as though to reassure me. "This castle has been long abandoned, vacated after his first defeat."

I blinked at him, taking in his words, which sounded strangely familiar. A tangential thought hit me: He sounded almost like Fi, just now, except with vaguer platitudes. Memories of the little blue sprite cascaded through my consciousness. I had missed her horribly even in Hyrule, and my venture through Shadow hammered in just how much assistance the (sometimes annoying) spirit had been. I never really thanked her...

There, in the bedroom, where I had just had lain with my former enemy, I broke down, horrible, thankfully silent, but heaving sobs erupting from my throat as my tears slid down, hidden beneath my battle-callused hands.

Everything finally emerged, in a way it hadn't in the past year: The emotional and and spiritual exhaustion from the Goddess's quest, all that blood and murder... The loss of Fi, one of the best and dearest friends I had ever known. The unrelenting pressures that had been thrust onto me by Zelda and the Skyloft community after her rescue. And my most recent experience in Shadow, terminated by a near-death experience at the hand of the very spirit that had been the focus on my obsession, my torments, whom I had set out to rescue.

I felt the soft mattress shift, and it was a long time that Ghirahim held my shaking form. I felt his chin resting lightly, reassuringly on my head, his hand gently brushing my arm until the tears stemmed and my sobs quieted.

"I never wanted any of this...destiny, fate..." I swallowed. He drew back only slightly, and I felt the silent weight of his gaze on me. "All I wanted was to graduate from the academy and become a knight," I continued softly, staring down at the silvery bedsheets. "In another life, it would have been me, not Groose, marrying Zelda... Maybe becoming an instructor at the school." my voice broke, shaking my head as I lost myself in these useless thoughts.

I didn't dare look up at Ghirahim's expression. Maybe I was afraid I would see disgust, revulsion written on those pale, aristocratic features.

But he just ran a gentle hand through my blonde locks, his fingernails tracing light, soothing circles against my scalp.

He didn't speak for a few moments, but neither did he stop his calming affects. When he did speak, his voice was quiet, heavy with sincerity. "Fate isn't always kind, boy."

I looked up at him, my blue eyes meeting his brown irises, and I saw an unexpected empathy in his expression.

"I saw you," I murmured, more blurting the words out than anything. I felt his hand freeze, retract. I addressed the sheets on the bed, raising my own hands to bury my fingers in my tussled blonde hair.

"For months after the last battle.." I dragged my hands down to my face, rubbing my eyes. "I dreamed of you." My voice was wracked, the words leaving my lips as if in confession.

The words continued, seemingly of their own volition, torn out of my voice. "It was like you were haunting me. Sometimes, I even had hallucinations of you." I couldn't even hear him breathing.

Remembering the marks on my forearm, I turned to the demon, slowly rotating my forearm so that the distorted diamond scars on them were visible, stark in the grayish light. The demon's purple gaze trickled down to them, retaining a carefully guarded expression in his brown eyes.

That's about when I just disintegrated, right there. It was inevitable, I suppose.

My voice was raw, hoarse when I spoke.

"I thought I was possessed," I whispered.

Ghirahim said nothing, appearing to be somewhere within his own thoughts as his pupils raked over the red-traced diamonds that seemed to leap from my pale skin.

But I pressed him, a minute, but detectable trace of demand in my voice. "How much of all of that was real?"

He continued staring at the scars, sitting quite still, his perfect pale features giving him the appearance of an artfully crafted, seraphic statue. Finally, Ghirahim caught me in his intense gaze, and for a moment, I regretted even mentioning the whole affair, so intimidated I felt at his expression.

But if his temper had flared, it was gone now, as he spoke with clipped words. "I have no way of knowing if all the dreams were caused by me, skychild." His was impatient, carrying a sardonic ring in its sound. Again, there was no hint of apology.

"I did concentrate effort into visiting you in visions during your sleep," he paused, raising a graceful hand as if studying his nails. "I will tell you the incident in that thunder-dragon's sadistic challenge was caused by me, as was your vision of the Shadow Realm before you left the Surface."

I digested his words, and again, felt the spirit place the plate of food on my lap. I felt like his pet, I realized, like some wounded animal he had undertaken care of.

He inhaled sharply, and I looked up, surprised he continued; honestly, after the look he gave me, I hadn't expected any concrete explanation my inquiries, which bordered on accusation.

"I wasn't quite ready to die, especially not in that manner," he said slowly. "And then I remembered your irritating persistence, your..marginal combat skills when searching for..." he paused. "For things."

I looked up at him, recalling the last sets of benign, dulcet dreams I had of him during my shadowy journey, the whispered words, the caresses, his gentle grip on my hips. And of our last encounter together, those intimate touches, those incredible pleasures, juxtaposed so maddeningly with the lust in his eyes borne of my psychological and physical pain.

As if reading my thoughts, the demon lord set his jaw, and withdrew a few inches from me.

"As much as I love conversing with you, pet, I believe I'm going to retire," he said smoothly. He

glanced down at the untouched food in my lap. "You should eat," he repeated.

Without another word, the pale spirit rose gracefully, and strode silently out of the room.

I looked down at the plate of food. Pet, he had called me. I wondered.

* * *

><p>It took me about three months to fully recuperate. I have no way of knowing how much of my injuries and fatigue stemmed from the actual quest, and how much from the energy he had taken from me to restore himself to his former state.<p>

I was in the Demon Realm, I knew. But as Ghirahim had said, the castle had been long abandoned, and it was only his wing that had really been maintained.

My captor and I fell into an easy routine. I call him my captor, though he never really indicated that I was his prisoner. In retrospect, it was odd that I thought of him in that sense, as I had been the one to rescue him from what would surely have been a terrible fate. But I never saw a sign of my weapons during this time, was never given the opportunity to exit his castle. Though I never asked him for these things, and I didn't go hunting for them. I certainly had no desire to go exploring in the Demon Realm.

His nickname of "pet" for me was oddly appropriate, considering the relationship we had.

The gray light pouring in through my window didn't vary much. I could tell when it was nighttime only by the spells Ghirahim had on the castle, which would draw the curtains at a certain time. A habit he had picked up from his time on the surface, he would later explain. He had grown accustomed to fluctuating amounts of light to designate the time of day. Still, it remained difficult for me to mark the passage of time.

But every morning, I would wake up to a sumptuous breakfast laid out on my nightstand. When I got stronger, I would roam freely through Ghirahim's wing of the castle. It was decorated much as one would expect from the flamboyant demon lord: Lavish, elegant furnishings; rather impressive collections of weapons, both dark and not; and extensive libraries containing collections on everything from magic, to battle techniques, to gruesome tomes on torture which I would quickly set down.

He would visit me in the evenings. Sometimes, we would just talk, and he would watch me eat, occasionally joining me in sipping that sweet-smelling tea. I would tell him about my childhood in Skyloft, and about the more light-hearted of my adventures on the Goddess's quest, humorous anecdotes of the side quests I had undertaken.

He demonstrated a particular interest in human affairs, I noticed, and he got strangely quiet when I told him the story of the now-human Batreaux, who now manned the Item Exchange booth.

He never really spoke of his own life; he would tell me of magic, of the history of the Demon Wars, but of his own personal matters, he was notably silent. It was with much surprise on my part that I learned he had known Fi before his days as Demise's sword. They had not been friends, or so Ghirahim said with a wry smile. He insinuated that the then-livelier Fi had never been very tolerant of his darker inclinations. When he mentioned my former blue companion, I thought I heard something akin to regret lace his words; but he continued gracefully onto another topic, and I didn't ask.

Then there were those...other nights, the nature of which varied as unpredictably as his moods during my initial encounters with him. Some of these evenings, he would enter the room, and the energy crepitating around him told me all that I needed to know before he strode over and claimed my body; sometimes on the bed, sometimes against the wall, and others, on the very floor.

It was always passionate, and as I got stronger, the demon lord would get rougher, more sadistic as he took his pleasure from me. After I would awake from these nights of...vehement ecstasy, it was not uncommon for me to note a number of purple bruises on my flesh, usually accompanied by bite marks, deep scrapes from the spirit's fingernails. I grew less sore as time went on.

It was usually somewhat violent; the demon had his distinct penchants, and little need now to restrain his malicious streaks. However, on rarer occasions, there were those other evenings. Sometimes after our conversations, and sometimes in the middle of the night, his supple, tender touches rousing me from sleep without announcement. He was gentler these nights, even affectionate, and while these encounters lacked the fervent, rapturous passions of those rougher carnal episodes, they were more intimate, more emotionally gratifying. I don't mind admitting that I would grow to await these nights with a great anticipation.

_A/N: Again, some details deleted. See last chapter for A/N updates._

__He never called me "pet" during these latter sort of evenings.

I never again referenced the tormented dreams, the hallucinations during the year immediately after Demise's defeat. But the marks on my forearm never faded, and they served as a constant reminder of the fear I had in the Realm: The idea that, perhaps, a great deal of my actions were directed by Ghirahim's calculating outside influence, that perhaps everything I had done, had felt, came from some external, supernatural effect that Ghirahim himself had devised.

These thoughts would weigh my mind the first weeks I spent with him. But then I'd feel him enter the room, would meet his eyes, and the worries would inevitably quiet when I felt the energy sparking between us. As I felt him taking me, sliding into me so wonderfully, I ceased caring by what means I ended up in the dark spirit's implacably sadistic embrace.

One day, I stopped worrying about this completely.

Perhaps about a month after I first woke in his guest chambers, I went wandering through one of his libraries. I was searching for a book he had referenced, a tome on enhancement of swords' magical abilities. I was in the wrong section, I knew immediately, by reading some of the darker titles on the shelves; but as I turned to leave, one of volumes snatched at my vision. I paused, midstep, glancing at the spine:_ "Supernatural influences on Human Behavior: A Treatise of Demonic Hauntings and Possession."_

A chill glided up my spine. I hardly dared to breathe. I slowly rotated my body toward the tome, studying its leathery brown binding. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I cautiously scanned the library for his presence, noting no indication of the sword spirit's proximity. I lifted a careful hand and withdrew the book, slowly, as if to make no possible sound against its shelving. As I carried it to one of the elaborately carved mahogany desks, I willed my heart to stop hammering quite so fast, sure it was pounding fiercely enough to echo throughout the stone walls of the whole castle.

I laid the book down gingerly, and with trembling fingers, I found the section I wanted. I sat slowly, my eyes already devouring the text on the brittle pages. While uncommon, there have been documented cases of humans and other creatures being haunted, sometimes possessed, by demonic entities.

Feeling my blood pounding ever faster through my arteries, I allowed my eyes to skim further down the page. Common signs of hauntings include nightmares, unexplained scratches and bite marks on the human's flesh, noises and displacement of objects in the home, and visions and hallucinations of the entity.

A wave of nausea rolled sickeningly over my body as I recognized all but one of the descriptions. I had been sure the demon was haunting me, and indeed, he had nearly admitted as much; but the haunting itself was not the subject of which I sought confirmation. Hungry for more information, I continued reading as the book narrowed on the subject matter of my troubled concerns:

_Demonic possession is rarer, and while a demon may possess a human which draws his fascination, the human typically must have expended significant energy in displaying interest in the being._

My eyes drew further down the page, practically hearing the adrenaline pounding in my ears as I found the section I wanted:

_Signs of possession are varied. Common ones include: Significant lapses in memory, fits of seizures, uncharacteristically violent actions and moodswings toward loved ones, pre-cognition, and a sudden acquisition of ancient languages. Acquaintances report the sound of multiple voices speaking from the possessed individual._

My eyes narrowed at the last part, frowning in confusion. While my actions may have been...somewhat uncharacteristic in motive, nothing had been more violent than usual. The other signs of possession really didn't apply to the obsession I had experienced, either.

Beginning to feel doubt clouding my suspicions, I moved to close the book, eager to replace this incriminating tome.

I never even felt his presence, so engrossed I was in the treatise.

A pale hand shot down on the pages, forcing the book open at the chapter I had just read. A chill swept through my body at my discovery, and I felt a cold sweat break at the dread that was filling my stomach. I didn't move, paralyzed in the chair while my breath seemed caught in my chest. The white demon just stood over me, and I felt his hot breath moisten the back of my neck.

He flipped the page with a quick grace, and my eyes caught a section at the very bottom.

_While hauntings may be accomplished by a multitude of dark spirits, possession may only be realized by uncommitted entities, those with no permanent physical attachments to other objects or persons._

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, immediately recalling the image of the sword spirit's beautiful dark blade.

I turned, my mouth parted to address him, but when I saw the white spirit, he was already striding silently across the room, his silver hair tossed to the side as he exited, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He did not visit me that night. I scarcely slept, spending the night staring at the ceiling in uncharacteristic introspection.

I sought him out the next morning, finding him poring over several books in one of his less lavish studies.

Ghirahim sat up at my approach, draping an arm elegantly over his chair, leg crossed over the other as he scanned me with his observing brown irises. Those same brown eyes flashed surprise when I strode over, startled at the benign intensity that burned in my blue gaze. I stopped in front of the spirit, staring at him, for the first time since our reunion having full possession of the knowledge that while he had haunted me, while he had caused those dreams and visions, everything else: My obsession, my mad exploit for his emancipation, my zealous unwillingness to see him perish in Shadow, was not influenced by any sort of enchantment by him – any overtly supernatural, anyway.

I lowered myself to my knees directly in front of his chair, and the white-clad spirit just continued watching me with interest, his pale head tilted indulgently. A small smile of amusement played over his silvery lips when I placed my hand tentatively on his leg. He acquiesced when I buried my hand in his soft, silvery locks and gently, hesitantly pulled him down toward me, pressing my lips against his without any sort of finesse.

That was the first time I instigated our more intimate encounters. It wouldn't be the last.

Days stretched into weeks, weeks into months, and as time went on, I found my spiritual and psychological wounds from the Goddess quest begin healing, their scars fading away as I truly rested for the first time since before the voice of destiny called. My days were spent reading and roaming around parts of the castle, never failing to find something of interest that would capture my attention.

Using some of the stationary in his library, I began writing of my adventures, journaling them, and working through some of the unresolved pains that still lingered. My evenings were spent conversing with, and otherwise entertaining the demon lord, experiencing some of the greatest pleasures and sensations I would ever realize. I'd never been so free of responsibility, and after those grueling months of pressure, the liberation was rather intoxicating. I felt emancipated in the pale spirit's quiet captivity.

As it would turn out, my carefree days as the demon lord's pet were not interminable.

* * *

><p>AN: So many reviews!

AerieTigre: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed.

Tapix

There really aren't, though the rape/torture ones definitely have their moments. *stares off into the

distance*..Often.

ButterflyBabyBlue

I'm glad it came as a pleasant surprise! And yeah, it was really hard seeing him being gentle the first

time, at least.

Teapot-sama

Ahh, glad people appreciated the emotional S/M here!

Sarah

Oh, I'm not great at updating quickly, at all... I just had most of this finished already. But I'm glad

you're enjoying this! Also glad you liked the shadow beast. :)

I wish I could insert some more lemon, but I'm officially in Panic Mode this semester. There's going to

be one more chapter in this story, but I'm thinking of starting up an associated work after my finals

are over in a month, with a bit more lemon...well, more on that later. :)

I know EXACTLY what part of the shadow temple you're talking about! I wonder if that's sad or

awesome... going to go with awesome. :)

sun-flavour

lilyrose225

See above comment! More on it later.

Grin Evilly:

Thank you! I hope you enjoyed.

MrMyshka:

Thank you very much for the compliments on imagery! I remember when I used to write FF before,

that was a problem I had that I tried to work on.

There's one last chapter to this, so it is coming to a close, but I'm really glad peopl eseemed to enjoy

this.

Lemon-len: Aw, thank you! I'm glad you liked the first chapter! honestly, I intended it to be one-

shot... That clearly worked well. XD

You know, I've never really been a fan of Yaoi, either, but Ghirahim is so deliciously androgynous, he

fit the small category of slash themes I like. But I don't really care for the usual Pipit/Groose/Other

male character themes.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for the compliments.

Person

Vembra Isles

bunnylali

Hahaha, I'm glad you enjoyed reading it! I do try to include some plot to my porn.

I'm glad you liked it! Words can be one of the hottest aspects of sex, so *of course* I was going to

include dialog. Especially Ghirahim's fabulously eloquent dialog...yes...*nods enthusiastically*


	9. Return

Chapter Nine

About ten months went by since I first awoke in Ghirahim's wing within his castle in the Demon Realm. At the time, I had been unsure of the exact length of my duration, but I was able to piece it together when I looked back on these events.

My time in the Demon Realm was surprisingly beneficial. While I was aware on some level that I was not as strong or as healthy as I was in the sunlit Eden of Hylia's realm, I had recovered greatly from the psychological and spiritual strains I had undergone, on my quest as the Goddess's Chosen Knight, as well as from my plunge into Shadow.

Maybe some would imagine I was unfulfilled, being locked in a castle with the Demon Lord, but that wasn't the case. I was actually quite content with the quiet life I lived, sleeping in late, getting up to peruse through his fascinating weapon and book collections, and spending my afternoons revising the chronicles I had written of my quests on the Surface and in Shadow - and of course, my time spent conversing with, and otherwise entertaining the pale spirit.

Though I had originally intended my scribblings to be more of a journal than anything else, my revisions would eventually transform parts of it into a guide, on the actual geography of the Surface, the type of vegetation and sustenance that may be found in the areas, and what kind of predators to expect. And of course, how to eradicate any troublesome enemies quickly. The books I read bolstered my writings and general knowledge; I read of things I'd never learned in Skyloft, of training armies, of battle strategies, and diplomacy. I thought of Hyrule, and wondered if Zelda knew of such things. I began feeling uncomfortable twinges as I thought of the village being constructed on the Surface.

I wasn't aware that Ghirahim knew of my attempts at authoring. He had given me free reign of his wing to do whatever I pleased, and I knew he wouldn't mind me using the scrap pieces of stationary I found in the desks. He certainly never mentioned it. But one day, I went back to my usual spot in one of the better lit libraries and found my scraps piled neatly in the corner. In the middle of the desk was a thick blank notebook, bound in a light-colored wood etched with beautiful swirling patterns. Complete with a set of calligraphy pens. When I attempted to thank him for this, the demon merely raised an eyebrow. "Preferable to you littering up the place with all that scribbling..." I think he said.

I wondered.

I'm positive some part of him knew, most likely before I did.

But it was a strange phenomenon. I had recovered from my injuries in Shadow, but as the months dragged on, I began to feel less and less healthy. I felt fatigued, again, but it was different than the sort during a quest, or when the demon had robbed me of my energy. It was a subtle condition, like I was forgoing a key source of sustenance, some essential mineral.

I had begun to lose weight, and I noticed when I looked in the mirror that I had grown quite pale; my features seemed somehow washed out, drained of their vitality.

But I was happy, during my time with him.

It was around month seven that I began to feel it. A sense of restlessness, unease, that had nothing to do with Ghirahim, or my immediate surroundings. More and more, I would catch myself thinking of the surface, of Hyrule, and I wondered how the village was progressing, if the knights from Skyloft had transferred to keep the residents safe from the predators in the woods. I'd look at the notebook I had finished, and I'd catch myself considering how helpful it would be to them. How I, with my knowledge and expertise of the Surface, would behoove the expanding village.

I felt a sort of pull in my chest, I suppose was the best way to describe it, and more and more, the Demon Lord would walk into my room during the evenings to find me staring out the beautiful arched windows, with my back towards him and my lavishly decorated room. I would immediately turn to greet him as he stood in my doorway, and I thought I could detect some concern in his eyes, some worry – but then spirit would absorb the genuine smile on my face, note the sudden light in my slowly dulling blue eyes upon seeing him, and the concern would dissipate.

Once during that last month, I dreamed of another spirit. This one was neither pale, nor demonic in nature, but one I had seen before.

I saw Fi, my beautiful, faithful little companion, who had left me and the world for eternal slumber in the Master Sword. She said nothing to me, in the dense gray fog that was my dream. But she glowed faintly, pulsing her familiar blue hue in rhythm with the pulse of Destiny in my chest, pulling ever stronger now. I saw the window to my chambers appear behind her, and Fi drifted out, still staring at me, as if signaling me to follow just as she once had before.

When I woke, it was not in terrored sweats, but with a melancholy calm.

That morning, Ghirahim walked into my room and found me wearing my knight uniform, an outfit I hadn't dawned since my journey, as Ghirahim had procured more casual clothing for my time in the castle.

His expression was guarded, unreadable as he studied me. I didn't say anything to him for a while as I stared out the Palladian window toward the gray scape of the Demon Realm; I knew his keen, experienced mind would arrive at the appropriate conclusion.

I spoke, finally.

"I have to go back, now." The sadness in my tone didn't escape him.

I felt his presence directly behind me, and the energy in the room heightened. My muscles tensed.

And pain enveloped me as he tugged ferociously on my blonde strands, sharp nails scraping my scalp viciously. My breath shunted out of me in a silent whoosh, and his hot, moist breath enveloped my sensitive ear, making me shiver despite the pain.

His voice came out in a harsh whisper. "And what gives you the impression that I'd grant you such freedom, _Hero_?" The appellation stung.

My body was pushed forward when he released his grip on me, rather roughly. When I turned, he was by my side, violent mood having subsided as quickly as it had arrived.

Ghirahim stared out the at the gray land outside the window of the room that had been my home nearly a year now.

Ten months of living in this castle. Ten months of this...easy, passionate, yet perplexing and undefined relationship with the Demon Lord. It had been almost a year since I had seen sunlight, seen the surface of Hyrule.

I swallowed. My voice came out so quietly. "...You know I can't stay here."

The pale spirit turned to look at me. His brown irises scanned over my pale complexion, my thinning frame, the dullness of my blue eyes. It had become painfully obvious over the last few months that the boy who had flourished on a sunny isle in the sky could not but wither in his world.

For a second, I thought I saw guilt darken the spirit's gaze. It was quickly replaced by another temper altogether.

I inhaled sharply, apprehension settling over me as I recognized the foreboding affect spreading across his elegant features.

That last occasion in the castle was brutal. He took me roughly, against the wall, and I got the impression that the green tunic, the chainmail, perhaps, spurred on the more sadistic fantasies he'd had of me when we were still enemies, when he still plotted and schemed in his near-successful attempts to revive Demise.

_A/N: ...again, details taken out... At this point, though, Link is on the ground after that last "session" is over._

He was already dressed, staring out the window, looking quite composed. My breath was ragged, pained with both physical and emotional torment; I've never felt quite as used as I did then, rumpled on the ground with his essence sullying my clothing.

Ghirahim didn't look at me. He didn't even say goodbye. He just pivoted on his heel, and glided out the door. He let it shut with a quiet, apathetic click that was heart-shatteringly more jarring than if he had slammed the door with any kind of sentiment.

He didn't visit me during my dinner that night.

When I next woke, I recognized the area of the forest near Hyrule.

* * *

><p>I recognized the young woman picking flowers near the Statue of the Temple of the Goddess.<p>

Zelda looked up from the daffodils in her hands, blinking as if trying to ascertain the reality of her vision. After a few seconds, a broad smile illuminated her face, and she rose up, face glowing in the sunlight of the realm.

She hugged me, not quite as fiercely as I expected, and it wasn't until she pulled away that I noticed her swollen belly, and, even more telling, the protective manner in which she placed her hand over her stomach.

I saw the glinting ring on her finger, the light of happiness shining in her eyes, and I smiled for my best friend, swooping in to give her another, albeit gentler, hug.

The construction of Hyrule had been rapid; or perhaps it only seemed to me so, given the length of my absence from its lush, sun-graced surface. The village had been finished, and it had really advanced into more of a town now, with a number of shops and areas of permanent housing erected. Quite a number of Skyloft's residents had emigrated to the more spacious land below, and a lot of young couples had eloped, choosing to start their new lives in the exciting foreign world.

With a rush of appreciation, I gazed at the beautiful cottage Zelda had led me to, in an area at the very edge of Hyrule; it was a bit distanced from the rest of the community, much nearer the solitude of the untouched woods than the town center. Groose had built it for me, Zelda explained, the young man staunchly refusing to believe that I would not return.

I was incredibly touched by the gesture, and impressed at Groose's insight, knowing I would prefer the privacy of a home away from town. It was small, but very beautiful, with a lovingly tended garden, and a modest, but impressive archery range in the area behind it.

When I next saw my old companion, he pulled me into a bone crushing hug, slapping me on the back and insisting he take me out with the boys of the town to the new alehouse that had just opened. I smiled at him, telling him I appreciated the gesture, but that I really needed some quiet time for a while.

The understanding in his eyes startled me. He just smiled at me, and nodded, assuring me that I was welcome whenever I felt up to it. With some regret, I wished I had taken the time to get to know this new Groose before I had left on my Shadow journey, this young man who had developed so much during his own adventures in the Sealed Grounds.

A few weeks went by, and I regained my color, and my weight and muscles began returning. I hadn't realized just how much of my vitality I had lost until I began regaining traces of my former strength.

Almost immediately, I was offered a job as an archery instructor at the Knight Academy. At Zelda's request, I began training the knight commanders in basic survival skills specifically designed for life in the different regions of the Surface. I included techniques on defeating creatures and gave advice on how to best fortify the town while preparing for expansion. The voice of Destiny pulsed more faintly now, and I sensed I would have a greater role in these endeavors sometime in the near future.

Not once did anyone ask me where I had gone, or what I had done during my time away from Hyrule and Skyloft. No one questioned my depleted physical state when I returned, though I did have a number of families invite me over for dinner. The motherly Mallora would stop by to drop off rich plates of food whenever I refused invitations, and Groose would frequently invite me along for fitness and training workouts; more and more, I found myself accepting his offers, pleasantly surprised at the quiet amicability between us.

Zelda never asked, never even made broached the topic; though sometimes when I looked at my best friend, I saw a lingering worry creasing her pretty features, as though she was afraid I would just disappear again one day without warning.

It was on one of these occasions, during a walk a few weeks before her and Groose's first child was due, that I caught her giving me one of these looks.

I reached over, and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before smiling at her. I met her eyes, making the first mention of my travels for the first time in the three months I had been back. "I'm not planning on going anywhere." Still smiling, I gestured down at her protruding abdomen. "Especially not with Groose Jr. on the way."

I was pained at the immediate glow of reassurance on her face, not having realized just how much my time away must have tormented my best friend. It occurred to me now that while I always considered Zelda blameless in what had happened, the Goddess that lived in my friend probably felt some amount of culpability in my disappearance, wracking guilt at the weakened state in which I had returned. Relief slowly spread across her features.

I no longer dreamed of the Demon Lord, at least, not so vividly. Occasionally, I would see him in dreams, but I knew they were ordinary, untouched by the energy of the dark spirit.

It was four months after I returned to Hyrule that Zelda and Groose's baby was born. A beautiful little girl, who they had named Impa, after the same young warrior and wise old woman they had both known and loved, simultaneously.

The celebrations over the first child to be born in Hyrule were long and full of energy. After a couple of hours, I slipped away into the dark cover of the night, making my way back to my cottage.

While I was extremely happy for my friends, the excitement and energy was still a bit much for me; I looked around at my prosperous and content friends, surrounded by their loved ones, and I felt strangely lonely. I excused myself shortly after I found myself tracing the pale diamond scars on my forearm, my thoughts returning to the days I had spent with the demon lord.

I would be lying if I said I did not think of him often; and occasionally, during my solitary walks in the deep forest woods, or underneath the beautiful, hot nightsky of the Lanayru Desert, I would pause, thinking I detected a trace of his distinct aura, felt his familiar gaze on my form.

I thought I felt such an energy as I slowly made my way back to my secluded home near the untamed woods of Faron, but I dismissed the idea.

As I opened the door to my bedroom, I swore felt it again, more strongly this time; that foreign, but familiar energy, emanating from the far back of my room.

I quickly a candle, and strode into the room, drawing my gaze to the corner by my window.

My heart leaped. My pulse quickened, and I prayed to whatever entity would grant me audience that this wasn't just a hallucination, brought on by a few too many celebratory drinks, and my deep sadness over the loss of the taunting spirit.

I clenched my eyes as if to calibrate them. Then I opened them again, slowly, hopefully.

It wasn't a hallucination. There, resting in the far corner of my room, rested the sleek, dark steeled blade I had retrieved from the lit chamber of the Shadow Realm. Pulsing with a slightly dark, but benign power.

His voice came from the area behind me, and I recognized his familiar words, said this time with a benign, teasing smirk:

"_Look who it is..." _

I turned, and watched as the pale demon lord beckoned me, wordlessly, with a white-gloved hand.

I never hesitated.

_fin_

* * *

><p><em>AN: "Look who it is..." were the first words Ghirahim said to Link in the Skyview Temple. _

_This is officially the end of this story. It was a pleasure writing this, and I really want to thank all my lovely reviewers for your insight, and the inspiration you guys provided. _

_I won't be starting up any new projects until after my exam period is over in a month, but I'm considering writing more about their...uh...experiences, let's say, together during the ten months Link was living with Ghirahim in the Demon Realm. I don't really have a vision for this yet, but I guess I'll see what direction it takes when I do start writing it._

_When I post this story up, I'll make sure to update this story, so all of you fanTASTIC people who favorited me will see if interested. _

_Again, thank you guys so much again for your support and reviews; I appreciated them more than I can express._


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